Doubt
by Andra Sashner
Summary: Bad Luck is on tour, Tohma's protecting Shu, and Shu has a secret. Eiri's got his work cut out for him to win his lover back after committing the biggest mistake ever. STORY CURRENTLY SUSPENDED.
1. Shatter

**01 - Shatter**

* * *

The expression on Shuichi's face made Eiri's insides curl. 

That faint touch of disgust mingling with the hurt, shock and pain – and all directed at Eiri. It was just such an abnormal contrast from Shuichi's usual regard of him that it dug into the novelist all the more.

It hurt worse knowing he had done that, he was the one making Shuichi look at him like that.

He had done something so outrageously stupid that there was no excuse, no reason in the world that he could even dare to offer. Just trying would only add insult to injury and there was no way Eiri was going to rub salt on the boy's wounds. He was not that cold hearted, not that anyone would ever believe him –-especially after this. Eiri cringed again, more waves of guilt and shame washing over him.

_What had I been thinking_?

But that was it, wasn't it? He hadn't been thinking. This was all just gloriously and magnificently his damned fault.

Shuichi stepped further away, one step physically and miles emotionally. His shaking hand drew up to cover his mouth as his jaw sagged further, his eyes continuing their widening, his expression becoming wilder. Eiri braced himself expecting Shuichi, wanting the boy, to tear into him.

_Give in to the anger_, he silently begged. _Get angry, cry and scream, hit me but just be angry. Come to me and rage because if you don't…_

But the Gods must have been fed up with Eiri's stupidity and thoughtless cruelty, because Shu backed away in a daze until he hit the wall by the door behind him. His knees nearly gave out under him, tears spilled down his still face and his whole body seemed to be coming apart. Eiri wanted to hold him, make him stay and tell him how sorry Eiri was. But when the writer reached out for him, helplessly wishing to convey the regret in his heard, something died in Shuichi's eyes and he slowly turned and walked out the door.

He did not look back.

Eiri knew in his heart that this was the day he had been expecting for the last two years; the day that he had been dreading,

This was the day that Shuichi wasn't coming back.

-

-

-

Shu was a mess and Hiro ached for him.

The boy hadn't spoken a word since the rainy night he had come knocking on his best friend's door looking like he'd been punched in the gut by the weight of the entire world. That had been exactly eight days ago.

Shuichi had been half "gone" when he arrived. Unfocused eyes, moving on autopilot, seemingly without a real sense of where he was or even who his best friend was. From the few words he had mindlessly tried to string together in answer to Hiro's relentless pestering, the guitarist was able to piece together a little of what had happened.

And the rage inside of the young musician built into a greater pressure than he had ever imagined he could contain. But still, still, Shuichi stayed his friend with a soft hand and asked the angry youth not to go. Those purple eyes hadn't even focused. He just reached out and whispered.

That had been the last time Nakano Hiroshi had heard his best friend's voice.

Anyway, Hiro couldn't have left him, really. He looked like an empty shell lying on the bed the way he had after Hiro had helped him dry up and dress. Pale and listless, and the guitarist realised the boy was thinner than he should have been. Had the trouble been going on longer than Shuichi was letting on?

That bastard had done this.

_That man_ had broken Hiro's best friend. And even though his heart ached in more places than he thought he could stand, he knew there was no way he could help Shuichi pick up the pieces.

-

Fujisaki Suguru knew full well that Shuichi-kun had never missed an appearance before, never ditched work without a real reason, and he never _ever_ bounced back from all rough patches without his game face on ready to kick ass.

These were like facts of life to the youngest member of Bad Luck, infallible like the laws of physics. So the boy was not expecting what he saw in the least,

Shuichi wasn't ill, he wasn't incapacitated –-not physically, at least. But he wasn't there. He was awake, staring off into space, sitting on a futon with a lap blanket across his knees… but not. No expression, no tears and no response. Hiroshi hovered worriedly near him, almost wringing his hands with the anxiety.

Fujisaki could hardly believe his eyes at the sight.

"Nakano-san," the synth-master said frantically, gesturing to the unusually silent vocalist, "that can't be Shuichi-kun!" Hiro had snorted a dry laugh, looking anything but amused. But he got what Fujisaki had meant to say. There was the face, the body and the bright pink hair both recognised. But there was no sparkle, there was no life.

Fujisaki pressed his solidarity on Nakano-san, anything they needed they just had to ask. The boy was leaving immediately for NG to convey the gravity of the situation. They would believe him, and he knew they would rally to support Shuichi-kun through this.

They all loved him, and there was no way they were letting that sonovabitch Yuki near Shuichi-kun again.

-

The next few weeks were a mess, and NG held a small press conference to give a public apology with vague explanations for all the missed commitments.

Finally, a wily photographer captured Shuichi in his shattered state, and the press rage was on. Pretty soon they'd put two and two together, all they'd needed was to observe how Shuichi hadn't been back at Yuki's in some time. The tabloid field day began announcing the split of the year: The rock star and the novelist have broken up!

The public went wild.

Neither side gave one word of a comment to the press, no acknowledgement and no denial. And so the hay day continued, with the obsession for more information turning the photojournalists into rabid dogs. They printed everything they could uncover.

Yuki Eiri checked himself into an alcoholics' rehab centre, and Shuichi was photographed coming in to work supported by his sister still looking dead in his eyes… and it became frenzy.

Eventually, the band manager Mr K gave a public statement confirming the split as true, and that no further details were to be supplied as the reasons for the split were known only by the couple. The public were in a gaggle, the gossip magazines having sell-out sales and the celebrities concerned themselves experiencing record-breaking sales as well. Business was booming and no one complained.

Over the next few months, Bad Luck released several low-key soft rock ballad singles obviously written and composed solely by Shindou Shuichi – the lyrics and melody conveyed his emotions of loss too clearly. And the fans responded.

They gladly hung on to the tickets of cancelled concerts, and instead of complaining at the vague promises of rescheduling they sent in thousands of gifts and letters.

-

K smoked his cigarette quietly as he listened to Shuichi try his hardest at belting out the lyrics to the newest song Bad Luck had composed.

It was supposed to be a group effort, something Hiro and Fujisaki had been a big part of in order to get Shu out of his emotional hell hole. It was also supposed to sound moderately up beat, one step at a time they had agreed, but there was little force behind the voice. The lack of feeling and relation behind the great lyrics made it all fall flat. K sighed, and gathered his energy before spinning around to face the group.

"Ok, folks," His voice cheery and smile gentle, "Let's call it a day shall we?" He patted Shuichi comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I guess it has been too hectic with those ballads getting released; promotions and all."

Shuichi nodded, not even trying to muster up a smile; K knew Shuichi understood they wouldn't buy it. He doubled his efforts to keep the smile in place, adding,

"We should let you rest. Those songs must have been emotionally draining for you, we need to let our star recuperate!"

As the studio crew packed up, polite and unfussy, Hiro and Fujisaki glanced over at Shuichi, gauging his mood, both very worried.

"I am not about to fall over, so quit looking ready to dive for the catch," He didn't even look like he had just spoken, they were startled. Shuichi's soft voice sounded sad and tired.

"C'mon, buddy, let's get ourselves home and get some dinner!" Hiro was getting good at keeping his spirits up around Shu. He knew he needed to get his good mood to influence his best friend. But still, it was rather disconcerting to have to be the cheery one after years of Shuichi constantly behaving like he'd just drunk seven espressos.

And today had become a shattering point: The headlines had glared from every store front that morning. The "lover" responsible for breaking up one of the most public-loved couples of all time had stepped forward.

There were those who had cheered for Yuki, who had gossiped that it was Shindou Shuichi who had played around. It was the rock star, they whispered, who had recently been on tour and had a fling. They argued that it was Yuki Eiri whose heart had been broken. But the truth was out now.

Shuichi had taken one look at the glaring headlines lining every sidewalk they passed into work this morning and paled. His colour had not returned, and he had refused all food today claiming lack of appetite. Yeah right.

They packed up, making half hearted jokes, trying to keep the mood light.

"It would be nice to have an early night," Shuichi admitted as they left the recording room.

Hiro had adjusted to the new soft voice; he hated it. He slung an arm about Shuichi's shoulders as they walked down the hall, "But please let me whip you up some food to get down your throat, you haven't eaten today!"

Fujisaki snorted as he followed behind them, "I know you hate seeing Shindou-san this way, but you don't need to rush and put him out of his misery!"

Hiro glared ferociously and attempted to swipe at him but Fujisaki neatly stepped to Shuichi's other side out of harm's way. "Oy!" Hiro barked. "If you have something to say about my cooking, say it to my face!"

"And within arm's reach, you mean, no doubt," Fujisaki returned coolly, looking bored. K laughed, watching the exchange back and forth as though observing a tennis match.

The two bickered even as they paused to wait for the elevator, Schuichi smack dab in the middle. He knew his friends were bickering for his sake, for his entertainment. And that, if nothing else, put a small smile on his face.

Shuichi turned around to watch the show, grinning as Fujisaki maintained a collected air and Hiro looked more and more riled. At one particularly well timed jibe, score Fujisaki, he actually laughed. The sound was so long unheard of that all three paused to watch him.

He giggled all the way into the elevator and joined in, defending his best friend's cooking with his life. The two visibly relaxed and Schuichi felt bad to have had them worry so much about him. K caught his eye in the reflection of the elevator doors and winked at him. Grinning with a semblance of his usual foolishness, he winked back.

And right there as the doors opened, where K's face was in the reflection, appeared a new face. One startlingly familiar and painful face, pale like Schuichi remembered, but thinner and haggard with eyes deeper set. The golden eyes bore straight into his, as though into his soul.

"Hello, Shuichi," Yuki Eiri whispered.

-

"Don't you _dare!_ " Tohma's voice rang out from somewhere behind Eiri as Hiro launched himself at the novelist, K simultaneously capturing the guitarist from behind.

Kicking and struggling, Hiro fired the fiercest, most degrading insults in known vocabulary into Eiri's face. Tohma roughly pulled the distracted writer a few steps back as it was obvious that K was only just holding the enraged guitarist out of range. But it really hadn't registered on Eiri, who was too busy staring at the face he hadn't seen in close to a quarter of a year.

Eiri had heard the boy's new songs, and each one had doused him in shame and remorse. Shuichi's face had kept appearing in candid photographs across the nation's press looking haunted and weary, and Eiri could see it in the singer's eyes despite the poor photography, that deep pain and sorrow.

So he had accumulated every tabloid and magazine that had anything to do with Shuichi, and listened to the new songs over and over again. It was self inflicted torture, in every spare minute of every day that Eiri had spent in that horrible Rehabilitation Centre. The novelist's psychiatrist had even deemed a bit over the top, but he needed to know and see, needed to keep the ramifications of his actions as close to home as possible.

Tohma was saying something, trying to get Eiri to come away. But he was locked on to Shuichi's gaze, trying desperately to will the boy to say something. He just wanted Shu to speak to him. The stare was broken when a huge and angry force rammed across the writer's face.

On the floor, dizzy and disoriented in the sudden shocked silence, Eiri looked up into Fujisaki's hard-breathing face. "Stay the i hell /i away from him!" the synth-master hissed.

Tohma was furious; his own cousin had decked his brother in law. Eiri really didn't care. They were right. He really should have just left Shu alone –it's not like he could give the young singer what was wanted of him anyway. And his latest sin was the crowning glory of his evil.

"Yuki."

Such a soft voice, it made Eiri choke; he couldn't look at the boy. Instead, he stared at the floor even after getting back up, having no idea what to say. There was nothing the writer could say, really.

Shuichi's shoes appeared within Eiri's field of vision, his feet and legs, slowly coming closer. Hiro was yelling again, telling Shuichi to keep away but he just kept coming. He stood right in front of the novelist, right within arm's reach and it made Eiri breathless.

"Shu," he whispered back, waiting. He still wanted Shuichi to be angry. He wanted i Shuichi /i to hit him. That would be better than these emotions the novelist had no idea how to handle.

As always, Shuichi did something else… something worse.

Shu touched Eiri's sore jaw, right where Fujisaki had hit him, gently and tenderly exploring the blossoming bruise. The writer shuddered. _No, don't do that_, he wanted to say, _Please don't do that, it's just too much…_

Eiri hadn't realised he had said it aloud until Shuichi paused, trembling fingertips still on his skin. The boy took a shaky breath, as though to gather courage and asked,

"Are you alright?" The question was his undoing. He looked up, amethyst gaze spell binding him instantly.

"Never," he whispered. _Never without you,_ he silently amended. He took a steadying breath as the small hand dropped. "The newspapers today…" Eiri didn't know how to continue. He wanted to apologise, had read that bitch Clarissa's jazzed-up sideways confession and it had shaken him. Just the thought that Shuichi would see her gloating face in those tabloids, and the idea that Shuichi might read it, might i believe /i it – had sent him there.

Shuichi sucked his breath. Hiro and Fujisaki renewed their declarations of their opinion of me, how dare the writer speak of i that /i . Eiri dove in, speaking fast just needing his lover to hear as much as possible before the inevitable.

"It wasn't like that, she's dressing it all up," he paused when he realised he sounded as though he was defending her. Swallowing hard, he ploughed on with his words tripping over themselves –-ramblings of an insane idiot.

_I'm digging my grave deeper_, he thought frantically, knowing that his words must have become worthless by this point. Shu said nothing as he listened, his eyes simply empty and sorrowful, waiting.

Eiri couldn't take it anymore. There was no apology for what he had said and done, anyway. But he did have one last thing to do: He got down to his knees and solemnly bowed before the startled singer, forehead to the floor in full respect. Hiro resumed the insults, and Tohma had to restrain his cousin. But, amidst the din, it was just the two of them.

And then a flash…

The hallway erupted, Tohma and his secretary calling for security and K manhandling his band down the hall. _Camera flash_, Eiri's mind registered before Shuichi was yanked away from before him. Guards came crashing after the escaping journalist, while others pulled him in the opposite direction.

Tohma's secretary was saying something about getting Eiri to his car, silly woman. But he ignored her, able only to stare through and over the blurs at the disappearing Shuichi who returned eye contact right back, even as they bustled the boy away.

He had been smiling. It ripped the writer up inside to know that someone had given it back. Someone else had made Shuichi smile.

He kicked off his shoes in the foyer of his home, and made his way to his big and empty living room. He remembered how that smile and the small sparkle in Shuichi's eyes had died at the sight of him… _him._

It hurt Eiri to know that he could destroy something as beautiful as Shuichi's smile with his mere presence. He thought about what else he had seen and noticed about the young man he had shared the last two years of his life with.

Shuichi had looked much too thin, dressed in new clothes. He had not come back for his old ones, and those he'd been wearing were obviously new. It signified he had no intention of coming back for his stuff. That stung, Eiri's stomach bottoming out again.

The brat had looked winsome and cute despite his new, rougher look in those black denim trousers and cropped punk rocker shirt. He'd had a lot of Hiro's style, with the studded leather collar at his throat. Even his hair was shorter, back to its natural soft brown, the pink had grown out. Eiri lit up another cigarette as he lounged back on the couch, remembering. Shuichi had just stopped and stared, like he had forgotten who the hell Eiri was, the tremble in his sexy body the only giveaway…

The writer mentally smacked himself.

How dare he have lustful thoughts? But then again, it reminded him of what he had thrown away. He had hurt his lover beyond repair. Taking a deep pull on a cigarette, Eiri realised he would need to go back to the life he had been living before he met Shu.

He chuckled bleakly.

Not living, he realised, he was going back to existing.

-

"That bastard had had the gall to come to Shuichi! There really is no limit to his arrogance, is there?!" Hiro was fuming.

Fujisaki was looking equally offended but Shuichi just stared out the window not saying anything, sitting with his best friend in the back seat of the car.

"Calm down, Hiro," K's usual horrible Japanese adding a measure of a lighter mood to the air in the car, glancing at the angry guitarist in the rear view mirror as he drove. "We can kill him later!" He brandished his side arm in a frightfully joyful manner. Hiro sat back and studied Shuichi, who looked a thousand miles away.

"Hey," he suddenly muttered to the two in front, "Turn that music down for a bit," They obliged, and he sat back to wait for it. He knew it was coming.

"He was there…" Shuichi whispered to no one in particular. They all waited patiently, straining to hear. He wasn't talking to anyone, just thinking out loud, and they wanted to hear what he was thinking. "He looked so sad…"

Hiro gritted his teeth to stop from yelling and pulling Shu out of the trance. If Hiro drew the boy's attention to the fact he was thinking aloud, he might stop.

Softly, eyes welling with tears, "I can't bear it when he looks like that, when he has no one there for him." He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. "I still miss him…"

The angry guitarist slammed the door of the car before it had come to a full stop in the garage. He left the rest behind and went into the official Bad Luck house. He, Shuichi, Fujisaki and Mr K all lived there, and they could take care of Shu, get him thru the door. He had decided he needed some quality time with that punching bag in the recreation room.

Jeans and boots gone, just in his boxers and tank top undershirt, Hiro got down with that bag for a solid hour. Sweat dripped off of him and his arms and legs hurt, but he went at it for all he was worth.

He remembered the first month here in this great house, when they had all just moved in and together were taking care of Shuichi. They had made sure that at least one of them was with the singer at all times. Six weeks in, one evening on K's shift, the gunman had been called away suddenly.

"Yo, Hiro!" He had exclaimed, sounding rushed, "The head honcho called says he needs me in on a new deal going down right now, so you gotta get back here as soon as you can coz I'm on my way out the door."

Hiro had blazed over on his bike as quick as he could, Shu couldn't have been alone for more than an hour. But it had been enough. The sun had set and none of the lights had been turned on. The house was silent as death when he walked in. Death, the word flooded the guitarist's mind and he ran to find Shuichi.

In the doorway to K's room and breathing hard, his heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sight before him. _Please, no!_ Hiro gulped. Clearing his throat, he steered his voice to sound calm and focused.

"Hey, Shu, buddy," It had not come out as playful sounding as he would have hoped. He eyed the nine-mil calibre in his best friend's hands that frightened him more out of his wits than he had ever been in his life. "You know K's not gonna be happy with you smudging his carefully polished baby."

Shuichi slowly looked up toward the general sound of Hiro's voice, gazing through the young man. He whispered, confused, "Hiro?"

"Hey, I'm here, Shu." He leaned over and rumpled the boy's hair fondly, "I'm here for you, buddy, so please don't take my best friend away from me and please hand that over…" Hiro slowly reached over and took the firearm from the boy's thankfully limp hands. He set it down on the bureau away from Shu, careful not to take his eyes off of his best friend. Hands free again, he bent and gathered the singer into his arms, just picked the thin form off the floor and took Shuichi to his room.

Hiro kept Shu all that night, held him close as he cried his steady tears. No sobbing, no hiccupping and no breathless panting; Just silent tears that kept overflowing from his staring unfocused eyes.

_His eyes…_

Hiro thumped the bag harder, feeling the strain in his shoulders. Things hadn't started to get better for another few months after that. Months! He had only just come back and now this! That bastard had mistreated Hiro's best friend, walked all over him, and had finally cheated on him. Shuichi should be free now! It made the guitarist's head hurt. His hurting head made his eyes sting and the sting made tears track down his face amidst the perspiration.

Hiro wrapped his arms around the hanging sand bag, shoulders heaving, and poured it out.

-

-

-

_It gets better here on out, I promise. The viewpointing here is REALLY short but as the story progresses, things settle much more firmly in the scene. The next three chapters are 1st person POV (which I have come to hate and intend to translate into 3rd person) but those are mainly for background on the story and the relationship. If you can, please leave a review or comment! Thanks._


	2. Monstrous

Chapter 2

Monstrous

-

-

-

He really is so handsome, and no one can say he isn't.

Whether he wears his usual bored expression or allows that small fleeting smile to show, one cannot help but recognise how attractive he really is.

Interviewers and TV talk show hosts always try to get him to show his emotional side, he writes so much about affairs of the heart that they all expect him to be passionate in person. So many people are deceived by this ideal that there is a never ending stream of women and men who try to get close to him, to unwrap what they believe is merely a chilly façade.

Mostly, they leave disappointed. For some, Yuki will spare a kind word or a thoughtful gesture and part with a tragic air. He is much to cunning and far too intelligent to burn bridges with people. And so he remains the aloof and unattainable bachelor that no one can break.

I never thought to break him.

After all, I was drawn to him before I even knew who he was. He was never a challenge or a conquest of mine. I just loved him, plain and simple. He could look almost expressionless but I always could see the feelings in his eyes, the hints in his posture. It was how I had known, back when we'd first started seeing each other and I'd forcefully moved in, that he was still seeing other people.

Sure, I could smell the makeup on his skin and clothes, but even if I hadn't I would still have known. His eyes had mocked me, and when I found things conveniently forgotten around the house those eyes had challenged me.

I continued to do the cleaning and laundry as always, washed the glasses smudged with lipstick. They didn't have Yuki like I did, I told myself, and they didn't know the things I did. I insisted to myself it would be okay and I would really believe it.

I loved him.

I _love_ him.

It was all that I could think about. I knew that I had dumped myself on him and that I was intruding on his life, but even if he just treated my like 'somebody there', that would have been just fine. I just wanted to be near him.

Every time I would just start to feel my heart begin to crack and fracture, when I would find that I didn't have my infamous zest to bounce and generally make a spectacle of myself, he would turn and look at me with those eyes flaring. They would say to me, i come here /i . His arms would take me and lips would scorch me. He would bring me to bed, claim my body fiercely and force out my cries of love and longing. He betrayed his feelings by longing to hear mine, his own lips and body telling me more than he could ever put into words, great writer that he is.

He would let me sleep in his bed, let me curl against him through the night, and let me see him rumpled and sexy in the morning. His eyes would wait, shuttered and expecting those first few mornings. But I would always smile and tell him I loved him before escaping to get dressed and get to work. It took some time before he would wake up relaxed and stay relaxed.

Eventually, the lipstick marks stopped appearing. The house stayed the way mostly how I left it, and his clothes ceased to smell of make up and perfume.

"I want to buy a new bed," I told him over breakfast one morning.

"Eh?"

"I want to buy us a bed, Yuki! Our own bed." I grinned, excited by the thought of sharing a bed with Yuki, of calling it _our_ bed.

"Where are you going to put it?" He deliberately ignored the 'us' in my question, I noticed. "The other room is an office, if you will recall." His eyes flashed over the rim of his coffee cup.

"I want to put our bed in your room." I said quietly, happiness bursting having seen the intrigue and interest that had glimmered in his golden gaze. "It can become _our_ room."

"I already have a bed, idiot, what do I need another one for?" He teased, quirking an eyebrow ever so slightly at me, looking faintly amused.

"_You_ have a bed, Yuki," I corrected, jabbing a finger into the air. "And I think that _we_ should have a bed."

"Hmm." He huffed, standing from the table and beginning to clear the dishes.

The day the new bed and sheet sets arrived, he was busy working. I giggled madly while the workmen assembled the bed, and laughed out my joy when they carted the old stuff away. I made up the bed, smoothed the sheets and bounded about the apartment with such excitement, so overflowing with song that Yuki gave up with his writing. He scooped me up, marched me back in, and we mussed up my handiwork together.

I've slept in it ever since.

I changed pretty quickly after that, I learned that he responded better to words than to tears. I developed my own kind of temper. We squabbled, bickered, and had temper tantrums but we always slept in the same bed.

_Our_s.

I rolled over in my new bed in this darkened room I shared with no one and stared at the posters up on my walls, unable to sleep. There was one that I had begged from a harassed bookshop keeper who didn't recognise me, a promotional poster for Yuki's latest book. There wasn't a photo of him on it, but it had his name and his work. Hiro hated it, of course.

Feeling the same old emptiness, and without any real conscious thought, I stood up and ripped that poster down. The paper complained loudly in the silent room. The silence bothered me all of a sudden so I turned my boom box on and pushed in a Nittle Grasper CD, turning the volume down low.

I lay back down, but not too long later the building restlessness overcame me. Thoughts were racing all of a sudden, but I knew where to burn them off.

The basement powered up as I shut the sound proof door. Lights came blinking on, the computer booted up and I made my way into our little home jam studio. This house was a great place, really, with all the things a rock group and its manager could ever need right down to a place to get music making. Nothing really sophisticated, just something there when we were in the mood.

I got a good beat on the keyboard and let the music pour from my soul, sang a few experimental lines I'd been mentally composing and got a thing going. It wasn't really a song, just a test. Throw a few lines out to hear them and see where they took me, accompanying myself with a touch of synthesisers here and there. I stopped to change the beat a few times, got a fast bass going at one point. I just let the beats take my emotions by the hand and lead them out of my heart.

When I'd poured most of it out, when I finally started to feel truly sleepy, I shut the place down and saved my work. There were a few files in my little folder now. I had been having these nightly urges almost daily since I saw Yuki some two weeks ago.

Yuki… It's like he had woken me up.

Time has suddenly gained substance since then, my days seemed more real, and my head and heart have begun to really pound in my body. Things are happening in my life again, things are feeling a bit more real. Everything was speeding up, my thoughts and emotions flooding me over and over, more and more everyday. Now, whenever I slept it was only because I was tired and my body needed rest. It was no longer comforting, not relaxing and not really restorative. And I was about to settle into another night of it.

I trudged up the steps and into the house. My heart was empty and spent, the words all sung out and the raging melodies exorcised. My mind was in blessed silence but I needed something else now and I needed it badly. He'd be up typing at his computer around this time, at two in the morning. I knew how he would look, what expression he'd be wearing. I slipped my feet into my sneakers, grabbed a jacket off the rack near the door and hailed a cab. The lights blurred by, I wasn't really focused.

The hallway looked alien and strange as I made my way toward my destination. It looked the same, everything did, but at the same time it all looked like I had never seen them before in my life. The sound the key made was the same, the door swung open in a familiar way, and someone I knew came down the hall to see who it was. It was the same apartment I remembered, the same furnishings –yet not. It was him, and yet it wasn't. I looked around, seeing everything with this bizarre perspective. I felt like I was dreaming; I had to check.

I walked toward him, that familiar form and face. I looked at the blond hair I didn't need to touch to know how it felt. I looked into the golden eyes that stared in wonder back at me –that expression was definitely something I never seen before. But when I leaned forward, it was there.

It was what suddenly made everything real again, that scent. It was him, this was Yuki. This was the building we lived in, the apartment we shared, and this was home. Everything swamped me at one, the recognition and appreciation, an avalanche of it. I stepped forward, closer to that scent, my hands lifting to him and to that aroma. His arms stole around me, they pulled me tight and I was enveloped.

His hair tickled my face the way it always did and his arms were strong around me like they always were. His expensive clothes smooth to my touch, I ran my hands over those hard shoulders beneath, the sweet familiar territory. I pulled back and looked up at his face, drugged by that wondrous scent, and reached for his soft mouth. He drew in a sharp breath as I leaned up on my toes.

_Yes..._ I thought. It was the one clear thought I had had all night. But the word was chased away by the crash of sensations at the first touch of his lips.

I could taste the tobacco as we kissed. And I could taste the sadness, the pain and the desperation there too. Pulling him into me, leaning fully against his hard body, my fingertips dragged on his jaw. I pulled him open and let my tongue dive into his mouth. He gasped and gathered me to him, opening for me, letting me in. Amidst the lovemaking of our lips, I searched for something desperately. I reached for it madly until I could finally taste it fully.

Love.

It was still there. And if I leaned back in his arms now, it would be in his eyes, too. Clouded by the other emotions but it would be there. Something nagged at me, I shouldn't look to see it in his eyes or it would all be over. I needed to go now.

I was reassured. I had found what I was looking for. So I pulled back, kept my eyes closed and let him hold me. Cheek against the firm expanse of his chest, I listened to his heartbeat slow back down again. Listened to the rise and fall and savoured the shiver in his body.

Long minutes later, I stepped away and pulled out of his embrace immediately turning so our eyes would not meet. I walked out the way I had come.

I refused to look back.

-

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Hiro glanced up at Fujisaki and Kei, an enormous and heart-felt grin on his face. They returned it just as sincerely, all heads nodding to the beat as blasted with the melody pumping through the room.

They were listening to yet another file of Shuichi's midnight jams, this latest one popped up just the other day and they had been dying for a moment to get away from Shuichi to gather and hear it.

They had become aware of the secret folder only about a week ago, Fujisaki stumbling over it as he had gone searching for the back-up to a corrupted file. There had been quite a few files in there then, hours worth of haphazard lyrics, melodies and beats. The raw material was disjointed and incomplete, but Fujisaki had immediately recognised the incredible potential. The other two had been summoned post haste when Shuichi had disappeared to a therapist appointment – and their reaction had been identical to Fujisaki's: Utter delight.

This newest file entitled Breaking was even more on track than the others, more consistent and firmly themed. But what really got them excited were the lyrics and emotions they could sense behind the words and melody: Shuichi was back and he was pissed off.

Y_ou don't know what love is_

_Until you've learned the meaning of the Blues_

_Until you've loved the love you've had to lose_

_You don't know how lips hurt_

_Until you've kissed and had to pay the cost_

_Until you've flipped your heart and lost_

_You don't know what love is_

_Do you know how a lost heart feels?_

_Aching at the mere thought of reminiscing?_

_And how lips that taste of tears lose their taste for kissing?_

_You don't know how hearts burn_

_For love that cannot live, yet never dies_

_Until you've faced the dawn with sleepless eyes…_

_You don't know what love is._

_- _

The words seemed sad and gentle, maybe even a little longing, but his voice and power radiated through the recording. It was obvious he had been lost in it, expressing himself in his own way... as obvious that he was frustrated and very annoyed. As the track ended they stood, smacking high fives and whooping, elated.

"That was amazing!" Hiro grinned, "It has the same quality of emotion behind it as The Rage Beat and it's twice as gripping!"

"That was definitely one of my favourites in the file," Fujisaki agreed, a wide smile on his face and looking quite impressed.

"The Shu man is back, people!" Kei cheered, adapting another American slang phrase into his horrible Japanese.

"No kidding, I'm back," A voice behind them quipped. "And see here what I found." The trio spun about to guiltily face the band's diminutive lead singer who looked… amused..!

Hiro's brows drew together. "Shuichi!" He registered his best friend's expression and uselessly observed, "You're not upset."

"No kidding, Sherlock!" Shuichi smiled. "Although the compliments I overheard did soften me up first…" He brushed the issue of privacy invasion away. "I really shouldn't have hidden it anyway, its work for the band and _we are_ the band." He moved in to stand beside them at the board and computer.

"You really shouldn't scare us like that," Kei grinned. "I might've shot you, you know"

"I'm certain your sense of self preservation would've stopped you if you had drawn your firearm." Shuichi replied, deadpan, eyes running over the switches and slides.

"Eh?" Kei puzzled. "_Self_ preservation?"

Shuichi nodded as he leaned over to slide a tab on the master board where his latest file had been uploaded. "Hiro and Fujisaki at this stage, not to mention Seguchi-sama, would murder you if you killed the band genius." He grinned mischievously.

They kept at processing the music well into the night, laughing uproariously and having a grand time. They ordered Chinese take out, and Hiro blew a breath of relief when Shuichi consumed two rice meal boxes, one box shy of his usual. They downed a few beers, and patched another song together before calling it a night.

Hiro lay back on his futon, both his hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, a happy half smile on his lips. He was feeling rather content, the weight on his chest had been lifting slowly through the afternoon and evening he had just spent with his best friend. The old joy of music making had filled his heart, and he had enjoyed seeing Shuichi's eyes glittering with more of his old passion. Shuichi was coming that much close to his old self and Hiro sure as anything wanted to ride the wave of this happy time.

The soft knock on his door stirred him, and he jumped up to answer it, somehow expecting that Shuichi would come to him tonight. Wordlessly, he led his friend back to his futon, scooting over to give some room, and opened his arms to the best friend he had ever had.

As Shuichi snuggled into Hiro's soft pillow and hard comforting warmth, he could feel what little tension remaining in his body just melt away. They slipped closer to slumber, the liquor and contentment running in their veins, Hiro breathed a soft sigh and drowsily rumpled Shuichi hair.

"Welcome back, Shu-chin."

-

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_"EIGHT new songs and COUNTING! The hit group Bad Luck have REALLY picked up the pace recently, releasing chart-rocking single after single. They've BARELY allowed time between each new single to MAXIMISE each song's perch at the number ONE spot! It's all come down to this, their DOMINATION of the Top Ten and we're expecting--"_

Yuki Eiri switched the television off in frustration, tossing the remote control onto the couch behind him as he jumped up on his feet and marched back to his office.

So much for taking a break…

The VJ's voice still grated at his nerves as he booted up his laptop. He lounged back in his chair, staring out the window on his left at the late morning sunshine.

He'd been drowning in this Bad Luck world for the past five or so months and it was driving him up the wall. At least the other news has died down, he thought. The vision of racks upon racks of tabloids featuring his bow to Shuichi had really pissed him the hell off. His heartfelt apology wasn't for the media to feed their business!

He sighed, ignoring his computer beep a prompt to enter his password. What was really bothering him was the apparition that had fleetingly come into his world those weeks before; the very firm and warm ghost that had smelled of strawberries and tasted of misery.

He absentmindedly sketched his thumb over his bottom lip, still remembering the feel of Shuichi gently biting down on them. He recalled the sensations that had flooded his befuddled mind, the painful yearning of his body and the utter shock in his heart. Had it not been for the taste and touch lingering upon his mouth and skin, he really would have doubted it had even happened. Just as real, the confusion that had plagued him since was showing no signs of abating.

He growled in renewed frustration, pushing away from his desk and stomping back out into the hallway, only to crash into his brother.

Tatsuha grinned at the stormy blonde who could pass for his twin. "I take it that the conspiracy continues?" He had heard the news on the TV from the kitchen, had noticed how the continued success of Bad Luck had his older brother almost constantly in tension. Eiri had become twice as taciturn in the passing months, and he was beginning to like how his brother ignored almost everything that had previously been intolerable.

As had become the norm, Eiri brushed past him, ignoring his brother completely. "You know, he's launching another album next month," Eiri paused, and Tatsuha pressed his opportunity. They were both aware from experience, this being the group's fourth album, that a tour always followed an album launch. "He's going to be gone soon, and for a long time,"

Eiri resumed movement, heading toward his bedroom. Tatsuha called after him, as he shut the door behind him. "I'm rather surprised you haven't realised what he's waiting from you, brother,"

Eiri listened to Tatsuha leave for the day, roaring off on his motorcycle, the words resounding in his ears –what he is waiting from you. What the hell did that mean? He had broken his lover's heart, his lover had left him and was now moving on with his life. What the hell could Shuichi need from him besides that sorry excuse of an apology?

Shuichi had even come back to say goodbye…

Eiri ran a restless hand through his hair, stomping a bit about the room has he went to sit by the window. He lit up a cigarette and lounged back on the sill, eyes closing. No matter how he chose to accept the brief encounter with his former lover as a goodbye kiss, he distinctly recalled the taste of it being a far cry from farewell. If anything, it had almost seemed…

No, he told himself firmly. That's impossible! _You will only be setting yourself up for more hurt if you continue to think this way._

He opened his eyes and stared across at the bed, remembering how Shuichi would watch him from the bed after lovemaking while he sat smoking on the sill. Shuichi's eyes always glittered with that loving yet possessive expression. The boy had had a particular way of lounging across the bed on his belly, skin flushed and lips rosy from Eiri's kisses –that would make the dour faced novelist want to get back into bed and make love to him all over again.

_Make love…_

The words stung. But he had truly, hadn't he? _Then why did you go and pull that stupid stunt_? He growled at himself, leaning his head back on the sill and closing his eyes once more.

Since Eiri had returned from New York after Shuichi, he had vowed that he would try harder. This was, after all, the only person in his life who had ever stuck by him without knowing him from before the incident with Kitazawa. His friends had mostly abandoned him, his family could barely tolerate him, and Tohma was … Tohma.

He had supported Shuichi as best he could from the shadows, even pulling that stunt with Tohma at the Tokyo Bay Music Festival to get vocalist out of an artistic slump. But it hadn't quite registered on him until much later that Shuichi didn't really want or need Eiri involved in his musical career. He wanted Eiri in his love life, in his personal life, in the life he lived away from the stage. But Eiri didn't understand that very well, having never been in a relationship before. Understanding and taking action were two very different things.

It had started in small pieces.

Small enough not to notice until the accumulated effect dawned on him one day: Shu still called his trademark 'La-Li-Ho!' arriving at home, but stopped storming into the office while he was working; Shu backing off when he snarled about the noise level; Shu spending more and more hours at the studio. When Eiri finally noticed, Shuichi was hardly speaking to him anymore. When he turned to look, Shuichi merely paused to wait for whatever he had to say, simply sporting a tentative and rather sad smile.

Eiri had been as disagreeable as always, lashing out and being his usual impatient self. But Shuichi wasn't playing his part, the boy had gone and done almost everything he'd been told. He'd shut up, he'd picked up after himself, and he'd stopped making a ruckus. But none of that appeased Eiri, getting precisely what he wanted.

Eiri had grabbed him, feeling sour and neglected, and taken Shuichi to bed where he spent the night making continuous and fiery love to the pop star. The next day -bruised, marked and weary- Shuichi still managed to find the energy to get out to the studio at Eiri's mere mention of his new book's deadline.

No "please stay in bed with me", no "but its such a beautiful day, lets go out", and definitely no "you need a break". Without an argument, Shuichi just got out of the way.

It had annoyed Eiri intensely. The unusual silence irritated him more than the bickering and noise. He knew he was being unreasonable but he became even colder, and his tongue sharpened. Yet nothing provoked the singer, nothing at all. Shuichi acquiesced to everything, obeyed what Eiri ordered and offered almost no resistance. Finally, Shuichi was home only every other night. He would, after a shower and gathering a change of clothes, disappear to 'keep out from underfoot' for another two days.

"I suppose you're going to move out next," Eiri had snapped from the darkness of the living room when Shuichi came sneaking in after midnight, on his usual 48-hour cycle. "You're hardly here anyway, so what's the point of insisting on trekking across the city from here to the studio everyday?" His tone was particularly icy. He was smashed, having been drinking steadily since dinnertime as he waited for the brat to get home.

He had known Shuichi would be back tonight, having last left the day before yesterday. This was to be a night the vocalist would be sleeping in their bed. But to arrive after midnight…?!

Shuichi had frozen mid tip-toe at the sound of his voice, but at his words stood still and downcast, expression hidden from view by the long chunks of hair messily spilling over his forehead. "Is that what you want?" Shuichi asked on a whisper. "Do you want me to move out?"

The question made Eiri see red. To him, it seemed like Shuichi was purposely being such an ass so i he /i would be the one to become exasperated and kick the singer out. _I'll never leave you, Yuki…_ The promise had resounded in his mind as he stood to confront the source of his annoyance. "You don't really live here anyway!" he bit out.

"What are you trying to say?" Shuichi had stiffened, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Are you saying this isn't my home?" His shoulders clenched further. "Are you saying I don't belong here?" His voice was rising as his body began to shake. "Are you saying you don't want me here?!" Shuichi was close to yelling now.

Eiri grabbed him and pulled the struggling singer into his arms, lifting him up and striding toward the bedroom. Shuichi protested the entire way, growling and cursing. Eiri tossed the angry mop of pink onto the bed and pinned him down, with every intention of fucking the boy senseless.

Shuichi fought him, not to an extent of doing Eiri harm, but fight he did. It was the singer seriously resisting that made him even angrier, made him want to dominate. Eiri held the boy down and discarded their clothes, marking his lover's flesh and staking his territory. But Shuichi did not eventually submit like he usually would and the entire thing was far from progressing anywhere remotely satisfying, solving nothing. Mere sex was not what Eiri had wanted, admit it or not.

The boy curled into his nakedness in a corner of the bed when Eiri released him in frustration no less calm than when he had begun. He was enraged and annoyed; they had never disagreed on anything in bed before no matter what the state of their tempers.

Shuichi sobbed quietly, curled up into a little ball, hugging himself while Eiri watched. Feeling dirty and perverse for forcing himself on the obviously exhausted boy, he moved away to the window sill seat and lit up a cigarette. He had no words for the situation, puffing away on stick after stick until Shuichi finally cried himself to sleep.

When Eiri himself had calmed, he got into bed and attempted to draw his sleeping lover into his arms. But Shuichi, even in slumber, started at his touch and shied away. At that, there was no way he would spend the night beside Shuichi and he stormed off into his office to work.

Early in the morning, with almost no work done and his head throbbing from a hangover, he heard Shuichi run the shower. No singing, no noise and all movements very quiet. He went to stand in the bedroom doorway and watch the younger man prepare to leave. It incensed him, Shuichi was leaving again.

"Will you come back tonight?" Eiri queried, half asking it of Shuichi, putting a cigarette in his mouth. Shuichi, back to the bedroom door, jumped at his voice, irritating him further.

The boy didn't even turn to look at him when he replied. "I think after last night, I should stay out of your way for a while."

Eiri's temper snapped, unleashing his tongue once more. "If you're going to continue to be of no amusement to me, I may as well replace you." He lit the cigarette and blew the first puff directly at the stilled form before him. "Your performance last night was incredibly dull, considering the skill you've demonstrated in the past."

"Skill?!" Shuichi rounded on him in anger and humiliation, tears bright in his eyes. "You think it's _skill_ when I touch you? You think my love is for your _entertainment_?!"

"You _are _in that line of business, are you not?" Eiri softly returned. His lover reared as if struck, and he could see that the insult had cut very deep.

Without a reply, Shuichi snatched up his back pack and made to move around Eiri but the angry novelist blocked the way, planting his hands on either side of the door frame. "Please move out of the way," The singer asked patiently through gritted teeth.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" Eiri recklessly mocked, not quite understanding the state of his emotions himself.

Shuichi attempted to force his way past the belligerent writer but was met with staunch resistance. Struggling, the two forgot the cigarette between them and it wasn't until a hiss of burning and a cry of pain that they parted. Shuichi clasped a hand over his wrist where the stick had met his skin, breathing hard.

He looked up into Eiri's eyes with such anger that the blonde paused. "Take another lover, then!" He hissed. "Have some one else be your little bitch!"

Eiri had been shocked enough at the language to let the younger man past –who dashed for the door without pausing.

Eiri spent the day drinking, making no progress with his book, and becoming more and more irritated. He decided to go out, where he drank some more and ran into a slender blonde with a firm body he recalled bedding at some party in the past. If 'bedding' was even the appropriate word… He recalled there had been no bed involved and, using that as a line, he took her back to his place and into the bed he had thus far only shared with his pink-haired lover.

After a messy yet satisfying romp, while she was showering, he was sobering up. Eiri sat on the edge of the bed he had just sullied feeling, if possible, all the more disgusted with himself than he had the night before with Shuichi. He had vented his animosity, exorcised his temper and found nothing more than physical release. It was worth nothing to him and he was suddenly swamped with the horrid realisation of what he had just done.

Absently kicking at the woman's clothes scattered about the bedroom floor, he was so lost in thought and regret that he never heard the key turn in the front door. He never realised there was another person in the apartment until he heard the gasp from the doorway.

He had already known he had fucked up big time. But for Shuichi to see what he'd done… he knew he was a monster.

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Review or comment, please!


	3. In His Eyes

Chapter 3

In His Eyes

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His amethyst eyes were what caught my attention.

They flashed with the impossible clarity reserved only for the innocent gaze of a child. They could storm, glare or overflow with tears but they could never lose that transparent depth.

Those fascinating eyes would often watch me, would often pause to gaze at me with such admiration, respect and love that I honestly didn't know how to meet them. It was easier when they glared, when they flashed with temper. They looked all the more beautiful in that state than any other anyway. That was one of the reasons I liked to pick on him so much, actually. Just to see those flushed cheeks and angled brows, to see those amethyst eyes narrow and deepen in colour, his mouth thinned in a slight frown.

Those eyes were, in a way, what irrevocably bound me to him in the end. They could fathom me, you see. They could discern my thoughts, assess my emotions and calculate my mood. For all his silliness and eternal humour, Shuichi's eyes were the key to me.

He could really _see_.

He made a lot of noise around the apartment, made messes when he was trying to conjure more absurd lyrics, and ate too much junk food. But for the most part, he was an acceptable housemate… and a wonderful lover:

When I worked too hard, nearing a deadline or obsessed with a chapter, he found ways to fit into my life. He would make me take breaks, bring me coffee without being asked or buy me take away meals on his way home from the studio when he knew I'd been working all day and had had no time to cook.

He never intruded into my office, this sanctum, without good reason to. But sometimes he would camp right outside the door, the moving shadows providing adequate distraction on occasion that there would have been no difference had he been inside with me.

By example, he was showing me ways to be part of a relationship.

He and my sister Mika had grown close and she would tell him stories about our childhood that I would have preferred never pass her lips again. Actually, I didn't mind as much as I complained. What Shuichi learned, you see, he would make part of his life. From her, he discovered that I like lilies and have a fondness for crème caramel. So he put a vase of the flowers in my office and another on the dining table, and kept them fresh. Then he began the habit of purchasing the smooth flan for dessert every week or so.

He introduced himself to my eternally harassed editor, Mizuki, when she came by the apartment on what happened to be his day off, and charmed her completely. Sitting her down to tea and cookies, he asked endless questions about my work; they discussed the possibilities as to why my works were so popular. He even asked her about her opinions of me, personally. Then he proceeded to read all my published works. When that was done, he began to read my library, the works that I myself admired.

I wasn't certain how to take all this, though it wasn't as though he was blatantly researching my past. It was just that he hadn't bothered to cover his tracks. He hadn't hid how he was trying to learn as much about me as he could and I found this honesty rather disconcerting.

That wasn't all that shook my world, either. Everything about him was new to me. He had stayed by me through whatever shit I put him through and firmly stuck by his initial proclamation: That all he wanted was to be near me, to love me. It didn't make any sense.

In all honesty, it annoyed me that he couldn't be bought. He had turned down Mika's offer to spy on me in exchange for a music contract, which he earned on his own anyway. He'd be deliriously happy if I did anything for him, and those expressions of his pleasure were vastly amusing.

One particular delight of his is when I take him to my favourite coffee shop in Harajuku. We'd just sit by the window some weekends and watch the parade of Cosplay-clad people on the streets. After a time, I figured that this was his version of 'being bought', and the idea made me relax a bit. It put him back into a certain perspective I could deal with.

He didn't ask for much more than my time and attention, accepting and very excited to tag along with me when I would go out with the few friends I had. My crowd had balked a bit when they met him, not quite certain how to take it though they were all aware of the announcement I'd made on national TV. Naturally, Shuichi had perked up after the introductions and began assaulting them with questions: How long had we known each other, what did they do for a living, did they like strawberry Pocky?

They took to him, anyone would.

It was interesting, to say the least.

I got a bit more curious about him after a few friends began developing a friendship with him separate of me. It's likely not good to think of it in that light, but seeing how others liked and wanted him renewed my interest in him too. I watched him a little, observed and studied as though researching for one of my books.

I decided he had gotten exceptionally able at taking care of me, and had become more ignorant of ways to take care of himself. He still writes crappy lyrics but the public takes to it in much the same way they adore my ridiculous novels.

In all honesty, I think of myself as more of a Science Fiction writer than a Romance novelist, even if the Romance in my stories is technically fiction. The content of my writing is like experimenting with a new formula: the chemicals are all the same over and over again, there is only a limited amount of components -they just get added in a new order. There is a format to it, an almost scientific one that is methodical, precise and instantly effective at tugging at my readers' heartstrings.

Whatever. It's really just a shadow of what I had really wanted to do in Literature. Now, I doubt anyone would ever take me seriously not that I would want to really create something along the lines of what I had planned.

Shuichi hates it when I talk about my writing like that.

On writing, we can sometimes discuss styles and angles of perspective over coffee or meals that will get us going for hours, especially over poetry. We've found that a lot of people are interested in listening in to these conversations of ours, Lord knows why. And the fans who have noticed us will hang on us, awaiting an opportunity to pounce.

And that is another thing:

His rising popularity puts him in greater risk as the success continues, but he can't see it. He is always excited when people recognised him, impressed by the gathered throng of people outside NG or a concert, but for the most part he can't understand _why_. He still takes public transportation on days he wants to be in early, when Hiro refuses to wake at what Hiro calls 'ungodly hours'. He says he doesn't trust himself to drive, for fear that he will take on passengers and the idea of people's lives in his hands frightens him.

But he trusts me to drive him, among other things he relinquishes responsibility to me for that he has said he would rather not do himself. Makes me wonder how much of himself he is putting in my hands. I once half-heartedly threatened that he may not always find me by his side, expecting him to bubble with tears and wail. Instead he gave me a small smile and told me that he every faith in the world in me.

I shut up for a while after that.

"You have a deeper and warmer heart than anyone gives you credit for," Shuichi told me one night, after another bout of mad lovemaking. His head was resting on my chest, and he drew circles on my belly, a leg thrown over mine under the sheets.

My arm about his shoulders pulled him nearer so I could press a small kiss to the top of his head. "And how did you deduce that?"

"Because all your novels reveal so," He lifted his head, turning to rest on his chin and meet my gaze. "Your writing explores so much of human emotions and the depth of feeling, the essences of human relationships –it's impossible for them to be written by someone who doesn't just know what they are, but understands them."

I was disappointed thinking that he was falling into the same trap as most people do about me. I tried not to let my feelings show, and teased him instead. "So you suppose I think the way my heroes do? Maybe I will one day speak the same romantic nonsense?"

"No." He stated firmly, completely throwing me. "You are not imprudent enough in any way to think the way your characters do. They are far too simple, like children, in comparison to you." His eyes twinkled up at me, hair falling over his brow and framing his smiling mouth. "As for spouting romantic nonsense as you call it, in fact, I think you should _never_ say them."

I was startled by the contentment and honesty that shone in his eyes as he spoke. Didn't he want me to say sweet things to him? To tell him I love him or would give things up for him? I think that my curiosity reflected on my face because his smile widened into a grin.

"You should never say them,_ Uesugi._" He leaned up and over me slowly. "Or else you might stop _showing_ me instead," He tilted toward my mouth. "Then the whole world will know the truth about you… and I would rather keep it all to myself."

His lips caressed mine, a hand skimming over my belly heading south. When the kissed deepened and his hands found their target, it was in that same moment that his words hit home. He'd also addressed me by my real name, rolled it off his tongue as though it were sacred. I knew in that instant, before his kisses and touch chased intelligible thought away, that he had truly accepted me for precisely who I was and nothing else.

-

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He wrote chart-shaking song after another. Love songs of the sweetest intensity, and others of the most painful suffering –all ridiculously worded.

In my true opinion, they reflected too much of the intensity in what we were going through in our daily lives. Soon after I supposed that, my editor commented on the repertoire of emotions in my newest manuscript. Then a friend complimented me on my most recent work –precisely mentioning how he appreciated the intensity of the characters. The opinions were coming from all directions –even my sister asked if I was adapting a new style.

Eh? Wasn't my style just all the same?

I mulled about it for a while, calculated things in my mind a bit. Thinking about it, the book I'd written during the first few months of our relationship holds my best-selling record of all time. It was what got my fan base building in numbers again. It is even my editor's self-professed favourite –all for reasons unknown to me. So I read the book again.

I was gob-smacked.

I hadn't realised how much of my life during that time was reflected in those pages, in the lives of my characters. The tempestuous heroine reminded me of Shuichi and the unbending hero… well, that was that. I was left to ponder how deeply Shuichi and I affected each other. His observation of me and my work came to mind.

I was forced to consider how I might have underestimated his perceptiveness… maybe even his emotional maturity.

Thrown, I took some time to reassess my life and the changes that had occurred since that pink typhoon had stormed into my life. And I was horrified.

Things were progressing in our relationship and I had not been aware of it in the slightest. It looked to me that Shuichi had taken control of things, had reset the pace, while I wasn't looking. _Not that this was the first time._

I snapped at him one morning when he was singing in the shower, and told him the noise was giving me a headache. He stopped singing, finished his shower, and brought out some aspirin for me. I accepted the meds and the glass of water in silence. He kissed me as he did every morning before leaving for work, and called a goodbye from the front door.

This morning, I didn't reply.

I heard him wait by the door a bit, wait for me to answer. But I refused to be dictated, and gritted my teeth against the urge to respond. He left soon after, the door clicking softly behind him with a tone of finality that I rather disliked. Things felt incomplete that morning. It had become a habit to send him off, even with that small phrase, and I admittedly am a creature of habit.

Shuichi had developed his own habits, too. Just as on the kitchen counter, there stood my steaming mug of coffee, as it did every morning. I belligerently poured it down the drain and made my own. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I felt this urge to shake him out of my life and routine for a bit. It's not like I i depend /i on him.

Ugh. I had gone and said it.

But it felt too much like Shuichi was filling in my life in ways that I had not even considered. It was like he was cementing his place my life and I still wasn't certain that it was something I wanted. Sure we had been together for some two years now, he was undoubtedly a i part /i of my life…

_So what are you afraid of?_

Hmph.

I am _not_ afraid. As I sipped my java, I turned to the wall calendar and noticed the passes hanging from a tack on this Saturday's box. A concert was coming up.

I decided not to go.

-----

"_Really?_"

She was cute, but her voice was beginning to irritate me. I pushed my hair off my forehead and tossed the water out of it with a shake of my head. Legs treading water with my arms folded over the edge of the pool, I looked up at the woman from beneath my lashes. "Yes, really," I replied, becoming a little bored.

"But you have a _boyfriend!_"

Even if the logic would be lost on her, I still supplied an honest answer. "Just because I have a boyfriend, doesn't mean I'm strictly classified gay." I sighed. This isn't going to go anywhere. "The category of being 'Gay' is just that –a category. It's a nothing but taking ourselves out of the category of being 'Straight' and into another constraint of society." I snorted with the disgust of it. "If people just regarded others simply as they are –man or woman- without thought of those boundaries, then discrimination would be halfway to being beaten."

As expected, the bimbo asked, "Then you're straight? Which is it?"

"Never mind." I kicked off and did another ten laps of the pool, fuming at society in general.

"So what categories do you really think society should be divided by?" I resonant baritone asked as I sat back on my lounge chair to rest for a bit, mulling about how my argument was with a bigger picture. I glanced at the occupant of the nearby lounge chair and glared. He chuckled, obviously unaffected.

"Now what do i you /i want, Aku?" I lay back and shut my eyes against the sunlight pouring through the glass ceiling of the club.

"A tennis match appointment with you, for one thing," Aku replied. "But mostly, I'm interested in your earlier conversation with that silly fangirl of yours."

I sighed.

Knowing Hanabishi Aku, someone I'd known since grade school before leaving for America, he wasn't going to quit until I put the matter to rest. I propped myself half over toward him, watching as he ran a hand through his short spiky brown hair, dark eyes flashing with amusement. "I am merely of the opinion that people labelling sexual preferences binds people to an image that is entirely too easily twisted."

"So you _are _gay but you dislike the label?"

I lay back down and shut my eyes in exasperation, muttering, "Don't make me hurt you."

"I'm kidding!" He laughed lowly. "But how does disregarding categories apply to falling in love?"

At the rising of this new sub vein, I was thankful I'd broken eye contact. "Regardless of gender, attraction to beauty, is still attraction. Appreciating the qualities of a person is still appreciating their qualities, it's about taking people as they come." I sighed. "In every relationship, romantic or otherwise, it depends on what you want and how seriously you consider the factors involved."

"Factors such as..?"

"Such as that accepting someone who is of the same gender as you for a lover, there exists the factor that you will never bear a child. It is part of accepting the person –whatever or whoever they are."

Aku mulled over that for a while. He asked a few moments later, "What part of the category did you mean is 'entirely too easily twisted'?"

"Public perception," I muttered, beginning to feel cross with the topic subject. "It's too easily twisted by the silly fools who cross dress in that vulgar manner some can be prone to doing. And society, aided by the media, promotes homosexuality as a perversion of nature." I reached out to the side table to snag my cigarette pack and lighter, and offered them to Aku. "Their narrow-minded attitude is the more disgraceful."

I cracked open an eye at him. He drew out a stick and slipped out the Zippo lighter from under my grasp. Aku turned the lighter over and paused when he spied the NeoPrint, a little sticker picture, stuck to its side. I knew what he was looking at, that little caption from my and Shuichi's first date at Odaiba Amusement Park, and I knew our conversation would be on his mind.

"I suppose the word 'gay' as I know it is not something that I could apply to you –I am guilty of stereotyping the word, in that sense." Aku lit his cigarette and leaned over to light mine. I tossed the pack on to the table, and Aku toyed with the lighter further. "I did always figure you for the eternal playboy." He smiled a bit at his own words. "An eternal international playboy."

I gave a small smile, recalling our antics when we'd last travelled to LA together: I always could snag a girl without trying, and even without boasting my celebrity. Most never found out about that side of me anyway, it would've provided them with a clue to finding me in the future if they tried.

Aku slipped the lighter back on to the table and turned to regard me once more before lying back. "He's good for you, though, that kid."

_I wish people would stop saying that._

_-_

_-_

_-_

I still couldn't resist turning the TV on that Saturday of Shuichi's concert, setting my laptop on the coffee table before me.

I watched Shu pounce on stage, vibrant and colourful, scantily dressed and introducing Bad Luck with his usual energy overload. They started with 'Welcome to my Romance' to set the mood for the night.

Watching him wrung a low groan from my throat.

His eyes flashed naughtily and his hands drew over his smooth flat belly, hips and body moving to the beat. The back-up dancers move behind him and he seamlessly joins in and out of the dance sequence as he sings. You have to admit he is nothing short of spectacular on stage. When he groaned into the microphone at the instrumental break and began the speaking part, I could feel myself becoming spell bound by his half-lidded eyes. 'Let's make love…' he said in English, and I shook myself from my daze.

At some concerts that I've attended, refusing to head out into the traffic of departing people I hang around after the performance. I stalk through the halls backstage to his dressing room, charmingly kick out his attendants who may also happen to be fans of mine as well, and corner Shuichi. He is always shaking with the adrenaline, as pumped from his performance as I will never admit I am. His clothes slide easily from his perspiring body, radiating heat and energy. I love to take him like that, perched on the edge of his dressing table or on the wide couch, forcing moans past his taxed throat.

_Missing an opportunity tonight…  
_

Hmph. I turn the TV off and bustle back to my office.

It annoys me that I am as weak as to be unable to resist watching the concert at home. I'd already unloaded the passes on my brother Tatsuha, it should have been the end of the matter. Instead I'm being an idiot and watching him on TV.

My mood darkens.

I channel the irritation and earlier lustful thoughts into a sketch for my latest manuscript.

Two hours later, I re-read my jotting and can view for myself how annoyed I am that this child of a man has lodged himself so far into my life. Frustrated, I stalk back into the living room and switch the TV on to catch the Bad Luck concert closing. The urge had won out over the annoyance that I'd even had the urge in the first place.

Shuichi is in a different outfit now: slim green trousers cropped at the knee and lace-up combat boots paired with a filmy camouflage print tank top. He's even wearing a dog tag. His skin is shining from perspiration, and you can hear the slight strain in his voice from his exhausted vocal chords. But he's lost only a fraction of the energy he'd had when they started.

"Everyone!" The band strikes up the opening notes of _In the Moonlight_. "This is our last song, and I want to dedicate this to the special someone in my life…" He grins widely at his audience, those hypnotic eyes snagging me even through the airwaves. "You all know who I'm talking about!" The audience cheers loudly, the view changes to a camera mounted to a boom on one side of the stage. A few people are audibly chanting my name.

I clench my jaw.

I should be pleased. At least _he_ didn't say my name. But no, I'm pissed off and it's not making sense to me at all.

-

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Review or comment, please!


	4. And then there was Yuki

CHAPTER FOUR

and then there was Yuki

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My family has always been the most important to me. Then my mom fed me strawberries and my sister introduced me to strawberry Pocky, then I discovered music, and met Hiro…

Well, Hiro is something else entirely sometimes. If I could ever personify my definition of a brother, Hiro would be it. I love the guy, he's family to me and yet so much more in some ways that a real brother might not have been able to be. We're kind of too close for some people's comfort, really.

Most people think that it's Hiro who keeps me sane, being the only person who I could never stress out with my never ending exuberance. Sure, he gets upset sometimes, but only in extreme situations and only for a short amount of time. He's much too stable a guy. I guess by comparison, most people think I look like a complete idiot.

But what they don't know is that I'm there for Hiro, too. He's too calm, really. If he didn't have me to shake things up, he would just breeze through school without getting into anything. He would just do as his family suggested he do and take the courses his they think he should. It's not that he doesn't have a sense of self. Just that he's fine with anything, the kind of guy who goes with the flow.

"It is much too stressful to be upset; takes too much energy! Besides," he told me, lounging back on the grass of the school courtyard, in our sophomore year. "It's just too much of a bother to argue with my parents when they have a pretty good perspective on things,"

"Don't you have _anything_ at all that you're passionate about?!" I demanded, completely outraged. "Something that you absolutely and _totally_, just simply _love?_"

Hiro sighed, tucking his hands under his head and propping one foot on the knee of the other, getting more comfortable. He probably figured this conversation would take a while. "Sure I do, Shu. But there are only a few things."

"Like what?!" I was tensed up like coiled spring, kneeling by his side with my fists clenched.

"My guitar, for one."

"And..?" I prodded.

"Nittle Grasper…"

"_And?!_" I was knotting my uniform shirt with anxiousness.

"And you."

I froze. "Huh?"

Hiro cracked an eye open, reached up and put a hand on my head, lightly rumpling my hair, a small smile on his face. "You, I said, you little monkey." He looked straight into my eyes as he spoke. "There are things that are important to me, but just a few. The rest are alright just they way they are and I don't mind much else or what life deals me." He grinned. "But the things that are important are i vital /i to me. And you're one of them." He withdrew his hand, closed his eyes and settled back, lips curved in amusement.

I think he was more pleased with striking me speechless than anything else.

I sat there for a while, rolling his words around in my head until the school bell rang. As I trudged back up to the classroom behind him, I realised he was actually quite a passionate person, just like me. However, we displayed it in different ways. Whereas I would get excited over anything that I remotely found interesting, he was just the kind of person who only cared about things he considers more worthwhile; when something is special, it's very special. Just like how when he's happy, he's _really_ happy, and when he's sad… you get the picture.

But understand was one thing, it wasn't as if I could really relate at that point in time.

Regardless, I also saw that although he went with the wave of things, he never let anyone else dictate his beat. I could chatter away a mile a minute, fire questions off in rapid sequence, but he would answer at his own pace. Everything was at his own pace. He might seem to allow others to drag him along, but then again it was only because he was _allowing_ them to.

That was some time ago.

And then there was Yuki.

The trait of Hiro's I had so admired, to concentrate emotion on something important, had so far only truly manifested in me when it came to Music. But with Yuki, well that was a sensory overload if there ever was one. He became my passion, the centre of my love. I have loved so many things in my life before, but this was an entirely different matter. All I knew was that I was drawn to him, to those eyes no one else seemed to be able to read. My gaze was entranced by the gestures of his hands, and by the posture that everyone seemed unable to interpret.

I understood Hiro a bit better then.

And I got to know myself more too.

Sure it was mainly a flow of day to day… A very _intense_ day to day lifestyle, but Yuki and I managed. Fast-paced polar changes in regard and attitude were rather common. Flaring of tempers and bickering, finding ways around each other just to be together. And a _lot_ more lovemaking than I'd ever imagined, with persistent mornings of coming into work with my eyes at half-mast.

Being with you Yuki forced me grow up in a lot of ways, thought it was probably slow in coming. He made me learn what to take seriously and what to let go of; he showed me what really mattered. It was a lot like Hiro's way of things –the way of the world, I guess. I couldn't always tell what really mattered, and I still have trouble with that most of the time. But I am getting a better grasp of things, though what my opinion is doesn't necessarily agree with everyone around me –similar to the way things were before, in a sense. Maybe they all think that it's just my new way of being me, if they can even tell the difference at all.

The main issue was that I could tell the difference; that I could _feel _the difference. Which is, all by itself, all that I needed.

So I remember what I first felt when my doctor told me the news: Nothing.

That was what I felt. Just a sudden numbness that spread instantaneously through my body. The next thing I felt was worry. Worry for my loved ones: family, friends, and Yuki. And then after that I considered my career. My priorities in life suddenly had an order and my mind was forced to clear.

Tumour, Akagi-sensei had said, holding up an MRI result that displayed a graph of my brain. There were other words, but that one echoed in my mind until I couldn't hear anything else. I was tired that day, maybe my exhaustion disarmed me, I don't really know. She sent me home, told me to relax and not let this get to me since my prognosis looked pretty good. She gave me a new pain killer drug for the migraines I'd been having, now knowing what might treat them better; and sent her nice assistant Suzumiya-san to make sure I got my prescription from the hospital pharmacy before leaving. Nice guy, Suzumiya-san. He has hair dyed flame red... reminds me of blood.

Could make a nice song, I told myself with a shake of my head.

Seguchi-san called me as I was being driven home in an NG company cars, undoubtedly my doctor had called him being she is an employee of the NG Empire. He was asking all sorts of questions and I know I replied but for the life of me, I cannot remember what I said. Mainly, he was telling me not to worry. I resurfaced from my silence to tell him not to worry, too, and asked him to help me make sure that no one else would worry either. He paused at that. But then he said he understood, then, "And Eiri-san?"

"I need to protect them all, Seguchi-san," To my own ears I sounded calm, but felt very detached. "I need to protect our lives."

_What about my life?_

I was in a daze. When I looked up I was home, sliding in the key and pushing the door open. I shed my shoes, coat and backpack, and padded down the hall toward the clacking sounds of a keyboard. I stood in the open doorway, the clacking stopped and I stared into the golden eyes of the man I loved.

_My life with Yuki…_

Suddenly I knew what to do and I smiled at him, probably looking as weary and exhausted as I felt. I plodded in under his eye-corner gaze, stood behind him and bent to wrap my arms loosely about his neck. I pushed my nose into the warm flesh behind his hear and breathed in his scent, feeling it thrum down my nerves and calm my heart, feeling his heartbeat thump beneath my hands. All I knew at that moment was the need to protect him with everything that I had.

I was brief, he doesn't like it when I corner him for too long. On a whisper, "Tadaima, Yuki."

He muttered back, hands still poised above his laptop, "Okaeri."

-

That had been some eight months ago.

To some extent I knew that since I found out about this tumour that I have changed some more. I quit bouncing around like a madman and quit with most of the dramatics. It was never a conscious decision, really, it just happened. I was still exuberant, just not so dreamy. Things might have lost their ability to excite me, or maybe I just got a better grip on life. I had been forced to recognise what was most important to me in life and in what order.

I started visiting my family more, tried to smooth things over with Yuki, and threw myself into my Music.

My creativity was overflowing again what with all the inspiration from these emotions in me. In a way, I needed the Music for myself; my career was just an appendage to that. But my ideas excited my band mates, so I was happy to give them something. It helps that it pleased my production company –they sign my friends' cheques anyway.

My family loved seeing me and I loved spending money on them every time I came for a visit. We sat and planned holidays for a few of their vacations coming up, even one to London. It would be summer soon and they could get away to someplace cool and exciting. I would not be able to go with them so far away, but promised to go on a local visit soon.

When my father suggested insurance for the trip, in case luggage got lost or stolen, it got me thinking.

I spoke to Seguchi-san and asked about insurance for my family and for Yuki. He had made sure the most important bases were covered long before, so to know this made me feel much better. He didn't make much of a fuss when I insisted on additional benefits. We made adjustments to accommodate Yuki; I made quite a few stipulations.

Between Tohma and myself, we covered more ground than we ever thought we would or could.

Things didn't go so well with Yuki himself, though. What do you get for the man who has everything, I thought, than precisely what he asks for? Doing what he said brought us into less contact than ever before, but I did it knowing he had a deadline coming up and because he said he wanted it. I did as he said regardless of how I felt about it myself.

Unfortunately, it got messy pretty quickly.

All in all, I was pushing myself too far and I knew it. But I also _needed _ to, I didn't know what I would do if I slowed down enough to think about what was happening to me. Everything became a blur of music, family, friends, Bad Luck, and testing appointments. And, if I was lucky, Yuki.

My migraines began to worry me, too, which made them worse when they did occur. The frequency of the occurrences stayed stable, which was a good thing. The medication helped enough to reduce the splitting pain to a dull throb so I could pass my time without anyone knowing. Most especially without Hiro or Yuki finding out –those two had an uncanny knack for figuring things out where I was concerned.

It was easier to hide it from Yuki, who didn't ask very much after me. We had less and less squabbles but he was getting more and more aggravated with me –I didn't really understand it. Worryingly, I couldn't read him as well as I used to. His eyes were clouded now in a way I hadn't seen before. I initially had suspicions that Seguchi-san had told him about my condition but I was assured that this was not true.

Things got progressively worse until one day we had the mother of all arguments.

I was late getting back from seeing my sister, had missed the last express train to Tokyo and had had to take a series of buses to get home. I was tired from all the walking and the bumpy ride, and had been nursing a migraine all day. He was drunk and tired, having waited up for me. I suppose I should have stayed calm but I was upset with him too. I had wanted to spend my day off with him, knowing he had just finished his latest novel yet he had brushed me aside.

We ended up yelling at each other and he tried to force me into bed with him. Usually I'd capitulate, but this was an utter disaster. He had been uncharacteristically rough with me, almost to the point of being sadistic. I had refused him, angry and hurt at his treatment of me and with his actions.

Things did not improve come morning. I hated waking up alone when, after an argument, he would usually have wrapped me up in his arms. To irritate me further, he was back at work, considering he had just finished a novel a few days before. I was in as sour a mood as I could be that morning as I packed up and got ready to go.

"Will you come back tonight?" He asked from behind, startling me out of my silent grumbling. His voice was cool and bored, slightly raspy from what I supposed was a hangover.

I really didn't want to face off in my state, nor with him in that mood so I refused to turn and face him.

"I think after last night, I should stay out of your way for a while." He obviously had his own issues to deal with, or he would never have been as nasty with me as he'd been last night. I considered that suddenly. Was he preoccupied with a problem? Maybe he just needed-

"If you're going to continue to be of no amusement to me, I may as well replace you," All my goodwill flew out the window. "Your performance last night was incredibly dull, considering the skill you've demonstrated in the past."

I began to shake with rage. How _dare _he make a mockery of our relationship considering how far we had come? How _dare_ he slander our love and commitment and reduce it to his latest amusement? He hadn't been like this, said things like this, in such a long time that his callousness floored me.

Tears blurring my vision, I spun at him and raged. "Skill?! You think it's _skill_ when I touch you? You think my love is for your _entertainment_?!" I had so much more to say to him, I was so furious.

"You _are_ in that line of business, are you not?" His deceptively gentle voice disarmed me for a moment, until the words sank in. I felt like I had been physically struck. Yuki has never hit me before but how I wished that he had struck me instead, than say such words. The man I love had just spoken the nastiest things to me with the full intention of hurting me. And that thought was what hurt me the most –that Yuki would _want _to cause me pain.

I tried to get past him, refusing to let him see me break down in front of him but he blocked the doorway. I set my jaw. "Please move out of the way,"

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" His voice mocking, with such words in reference to our relationship _again_.

I fought him, forgetting everything. I just needed to get away. I'd forgotten about his cigarette, and the burn pulled me out of my vocal silence. With a cry of pain torn from my throat, I glared up at him with every ounce of my hurt and indignation. The emotions pulled on my vocabulary in a way it never had before. "Take another lover, then!" I hissed, willing myself to keep going and to get out. "Have some one else be your little bitch!"

I must have shocked him, he released me and I made my get away. I ran and didn't stop until I made it out into the park down the road from the apartment building. I sank into a bench and cried as silently as I could, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. I cried until a migraine came on and I needed medication.

Drat, I'd dropped my bag during the struggle with Yuki.

But I still had my wallet, keys and phone in my pocket so things weren't so awful. No work today, besides, just a whole-day session with my doctor for tests and evaluations. I called a cab and made it to my early appointment with plenty of time to spare.

I thought about Yuki all day, which kept my migraine going. Although, that was kind of a good thing because then the MRI machine would pick up the tumour activity better. My therapist came in to talk to me while they were running the tests. Katsuko-sensei was pleased to see me all worked up, getting a session with me in such an emotional state was rare, but her brow furrowed after I'd told her about what had happened.

We had a long chat, and she even let me in on her personal opinion of the matters with Yuki and not just the professional.

She made me think about why I was hiding my condition from Yuki, and what I had determined to do about my relationship with him in the beginning when I had found out about it myself. In her opinion, Yuki was being nasty because I wasn't there, because he was cross at not having my time. I had to admit I'd been neglecting him.

_When someone gives you gifts and treats, it is only a proof of one's generosity; but when someone gives you one's time, it is proof of their love_, She commented. We surmised it was possibly just a mixture of a bunch of bad timing and rotten tempers. Maybe we just needed to talk, maybe we just needed to squabble…

_Maybe we just need to go to bed...  
_

Argh! Or maybe not… I was afraid that this might be too bad an idea, especially after last night.

I mulled over things for the rest of the afternoon after leaving the hospital. Made a few stops at my favourite shops and stores, passed by Zenny's for dinner. I made my way home slowly, feeling quiet in the thick darkness of the night. It was late, and I had no place to go but home anyway since I had dropped my bag with my clothes in them. I'd already called my host to back out of staying over at his place. I could've borrowed some clothes, but I _wanted _to go home and talk to Yuki.

I needed to tell him that I love him, that everything was going to be alright no matter what happened.

In some ways I needed to reassure myself. But then again, I had always known that he needed the encouragement more than me. Just so happens that I've always had my doubts settled when I see his response in his eyes from hearing all things that I need him to know. I had promised to be with him, that nothing in the world would take me away from him. Honestly, I knew that whatever we needed to deal with that we would make it through alright. Because being with someone is a choice, as it was my choice to be with him. All I need to know is that he chooses to be with me too.

I would get that from his eyes if not from his lips.

I was still upset, and no doubt he would be so too. Maybe even drunk again, considering how bad that little fight had been.

It amazed me that things could be so messed up with so few words. _ It's not that simple, idiot..._ I sighed. Things had been going downhill since I stopped being there for him. Wasn't I the one who had promised that, no matter what he did, he would never be able to shake me off? I retreated into what I knew of Yuki, of the things I remembered of and learned from him and what we have been through. From that perspective, I got my thoughts together and collected a grasp of what I should probably say and do. I knew that I just needed to believe in myself and in our relationship with the same strength as I always had.

I pushed my key into the door and quietly made my way into the apartment; it was already way past midnight. I was startled for a moment, the shower was running, and I entertained the thought of going in to join him. Making my way to the bedroom, I started to feel a little better. He might snap at me if I barged in on him, but it could be another one of his empty growls..?

Just inside the doorway of the bedroom, I paused to take in the sight. Yuki was sitting on a very mussed bed. _He must be just about to take a shower_, I thought, but what's the point of wasting all that water? In the next instant, I noticed he was toeing something on the floor, a red… dress?

My breath caught in my throat and my migraine came storming past the medication into the forefront of my consciousness. Time seemed to slow down for a moment with the coming of the pain.

_That's someone else in the shower, _I realised. _Someone female, and the bed is a mess…_ I was suddenly assaulted by images of lipstick-marked glasses and long strands of hair across Yuki's pillows, along with the emotions of them.

Was that how much it had hurt back then? Memories flooded my mind. Was that how badly I had deceived myself?

Suddenly, I wasn't certain of anything anymore. All I could grasp was that Yuki had just bedded a woman, that perhaps this was not the first time since he had 'committed' to me.

_No._

I tried to reason that I myself had been the one monopolising Yuki's time, there would have been no time…back then... because it had been some time since the last time. All this time he had been…

_My Yuki.  
_

But 'My Yuki' was suddenly not quite mine anymore. Had I been so wrong?

I felt like I had lost him. Someone had taken my Yuki from me. I gasped with the pain of the thought and my migraine doubled its efforts to burst open my skull, my vision tilting momentarily. Yuki looked up at the sound, but I couldn't quite get my eyes to focus on his expression. All I could think about was how someone else had touched him, someone else had i stolen /i him from me.

_He had let himself be stolen,_ the little 'devil on my shoulder' whispered. He had wanted to go screw around with some tramp. He had _wanted_ to do this…

Yuki stared at me, of that I was certain, this man who I suddenly didn't recognise.

In that still moment, I seemed to detach from the world. It was as though everything around became a strange and unfamiliar place, this room and apartment, along with the man before me. It was like I didn't belong here, that whatever reality really was, this was it and it was reasserting itself. I felt like I didn't belong.

Panicking, I wanted to find something to hold on to, backing away until I hit the wall behind me for some support. But my legs were failing me and in spite of the solidity of the wall propping me up, the rising feeling of being lost did not ease.

I was about to open my mouth, to ask for his help, to ask what was going on, when Yuki reached toward me. I wasn't certain if he was holding his hand up to stop me from speaking or to reach out for me. But then maybe I didn't want to know, my life was in the balance... and I was scared by that, feeling like everything --the world-- was just slipping away. I needed something to keep me here, in this world, where I wanted to be and where everyone I loved was. I needed it_ immediately_ and Yuki might not be the one who could help me.

Family… Hiro… Somebody please be there.

He didn't say anything as I walked away.

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Review or comment, please!


	5. Court of Royals

CHAPTER 5 – Court of Royals

* * *

"It's becoming ridiculous." Nakano Hiroshi declared, shaking his head in annoyance. "Nothing seems to be shaking him out of it at all,"

Hiro had just finished relaying to Mr. K, Bad Luck gun-toting manager extraordinaire, the relayed message from Shindou Maiko regarding their vocalist and his Christmas vacation. The rock band frontman had gone on a week's vacation with his family.

The Shindou family had been out, stayed in, gone to visit, and been visited. Shuichi had been polite, smiling and attentive to his family. He had been a dutiful son, visiting the family shrine and helping around the house. He had taken out his keyboard and performed for his father and his cronies when the group had gathered for tea. He had even charmed the ladies, whose son-in-law-hunting mamas had thrown his way.

And charmed the mamas as well.

Needless to say, the Shindou family was on the verge of a quiet panic.

He smiled but there was little warmth and when he laughed it was with only a fraction of his former delight. He seemed withdrawn and alone even in a crowd of adoring people. He had hardly shared anything of what was happening in Tokyo. He was spied to have been staying up late into the night, strumming a few chords on his new guitar and jotting more lyrical notes. He mostly kept to himself if there were no plans.

Then Maiko struck a note in Hiro as they'd talked: She observed that this deterioration had begun even before the incident with Yuki Eiri, Shuichi's satisfyingly _former_ lover.

As He and K strode through the NG Records hall he continued, "I don't have any ideas on what to do at the moment, but more and more people are reporting back on how badly he is doing," Hiro was careful to moderate his voice, this conversation was not for others to overhear. "We really have to figure something out."

K grunted in acknowledgement of Hiro's words as they walked, his gaze busy glaring sparks at the general crowd in his way, making them scatter.

"Maiko was rather surprised that he left home as he had planned, behaving the way he had." Hiro added thoughtfully, "In spite of his outward act, she seems to think that he looked a lot like the time he ran away home shortly before the Tokyo Bay Music Festival."

"Which one?" K smirked slightly.

The Bad Luck singer was rather known for his dramatics and over-reactions but things really were not the same with him anymore and had not been for some time now. Hiro was rather annoyed that K refused to acknowledge that they had a bigger problem on their hands than the normal run of the mill daily drama.

"She and I are really concerned!" Hiro snapped mildly, still aware that there were prying eyes and ears about the NG halls. As they stepped into the empty elevator, Hiro turned to glare at the tall blonde next to him. "You may not see it but Maiko and I do."

K waved in an off-handed manner. "He has been doing his work, he's on the ball with promotions and has been putting more of an effort with the marketing team than ever before. He's growing up," He paused to spare the irate guitarist a condescending glance. "And maybe he's a lot tougher than you think."

"Next time he disappears-" Hiro broke off his rant as the elevator stopped on their floor. He made a concentrated effort to stomp down his intense irritation at having not taken the opportunity of their elevator solitude to give the stubborn Manager a piece of his mind. Lowering his voice, he hissed, "If he doesn't come back from his parents' house, I'm going to take great pleasure in telling you 'I told you so'!"

"I can go get him if you want me to, na no da!" Sakuma Ryuichi declared, popping out from behind a nearby vending machine.

"Hello, there Ryuichi!" The American boomed out in his loud voice. "Worry not, Shuichi hasn't run away!"

Biting back a groan of frustration, Hiro stomped ahead into the dedicated Bad Luck recording room. Following sedately, Ryuichi captured K's eyes and held them, looking rather more sombre than his usual childish self. "Shuichi-kun looks like he'll falling off of the world."

Hiro glanced back over his shoulder to note the change in the music legend, confirming that they were now dealing with the 'real' Sakuma Ryuichi. Thank goodness for another voice on his side! "Shuichi has always been a dependent person. He's much too unguarded and loving to be anything but."

Holding the door open for his two companions Hiro paused to nod at the lone occupant of the room. Fujisaki Suguru nodded back, settling things down with his work to come over and join the conversation. He focused his attention back on the annoying blonde.

"He has always needed people to watch out for him, to encourage him and get him back on his feet come rough times." Hiro mustered up his best 'listen up' glare which the American generally ignored. "And this is one of those times!"

Ryuichi nodded, waving his pink bunny madly in the air. "Shuichi-kun doesn't sparkle so much anymore, na no da!" The Nittle Grasper lead vocalist liked to say that Shuichi 'sparkled' when referring to Shuichi's ability to make his singing resound with intent and heart, which was something most were inclined to agree with.

K did not even dignify either statements with a reply or an acknowledgement, turning to greet the approaching figure. "Hello Fujisaki-kun, where is Shuichi-kun?"

Fujisaki greeted the imposing American politely before knitting his brows together in mild annoyance. "I sent him away for the day, as he was a little underfoot." He turned to regard his band mate. "He has prepared lyrics for our recent home jam sessions that we can work on, so it was not necessary for him to remain."

Hiro paused to take in Fujisaki's proper and whole-worded speech, allowing his previous negativity to fade. There was work to be done, a whole night of it in fact, and so he moved to take up his place in the studio, pausing briefly to blast K with one last icy glare.

"Thanks," he told Fujisaki, "that sounds alright. He did mention he had plans today."

"He needs to concentrate on the new singles, not be gallivanting about God knows where!" K snorted. "He works himself too hard as it is, I bet that is the reason he has seemed so 'off' lately."

Hiro thoroughly disliked the man's air of superiority.

"I agree. If he keeps up at this mad pace, he will most certainly fall apart before we even finish promotions for the new CD." Fujisaki raked a hand through his dark locks. "And then what'll happen to the tour?"

Hiro tossed Fujisaki a dirty look as he picked up his guitar. "It's not all about the band, you know."

The younger man had the decency to be embarrassed, turning to fiddle with his keyboard and prepare for rehearsal. "Although, speaking of band matters," Fujisaki narrowed his eyes. "Has anyone noticed how his Midnight Jams have been getting a little… dark?"

"Everything about him is becoming darker by the day – lyrics, dress and attitude." K complained, taking a seat. "The only off-set is that he's dyed his hair pink again."

Hiro picked up his guitar and began to automatically tune it. "Well it's not like anyone dislikes the changes, really. I actually think it kind of suits him." Adjusting the weight of the guitar on the strap over his shoulder, he turned to face K. "Mika might have something to do with that and by the way, is it just me or is Shuichi spending a _lot_ of time with Tatsuha and Mika-san?"

"It's not just you," Fujisaki confirmed. "He's been escorting Mika-san to various functions, including the Producers' Ball the other day."

Hiro let loose a low whistle at that, "And where was her permanent escort?" obviously referring to her husband.

"With me, sealing a deal with a new band," K supplied. "The group is looking very promising and no, you don't have to worry about competition, they're more of a candy pop group."

Hiro resisted the urge to point out the fact that Bad Luck had started out as a candy pop group. He returned his attention to his guitar, to exercising his fingers and getting down to work.

"Do we have any plans after today, Fujisaki-kun?" He looked up in query at his band mate. "I was thinking it would be nice to go out clubbing for a while tonight when we take a break, since we won't get much of a chance once the album launch comes around. Hey, Sakuma-san, would you like to-" Hiro had turned to where he had last seen he vocalist standing only to find the man no where in the room.

"I hate it when he does that." K muttered. He got up to leave them be and tend to his own workload. "See you boys later."

Shaking his head as his impossible manager departed, Hiro turned to Fujisaki and waited for the boy to notice his stare. He used the time to arrange his thoughts on the matter he wished to broach. His uncertainty doubled when the keyboardist finally met his gaze.

"Na, Fujisaki," Hiro suddenly found the well-kept keyboard quite fascinating. "Did Seguchi-san happen to speak to you about… Shuichi… recently? Maybe in regard to… Yuki-san?"

"Why do you ask?"

Hiro hesitated. Seguchi-san had drawn Hiro aside after a recent recording session and asked if Shuichi had mentioned anything about the writer. Hiro had had to admit that most of their recent songs were sad and longing, but that Shuichi was much too angry to directly discuss Yuki Eiri.

With a series of carefully worded queries, however, Seguchi-san had gleaned more information out of Hiro than he would have like for the NG president to know. He couldn't lie to the man, and though he tried not to volunteer information the man simply seemed to know what questions to ask in what order to get the information that he wanted. He was wary of the cutthroat business man that was Seguchi Tohma, doubly so at the idea of the man when concerned for his beloved 'Eiri-san'. The man went too far for that sadistic bastard, in Hiro's opinion.

Hiro disclosed an edited version of his thoughts, enough to answer the question.

"Briefly," Fujisaki admitted, turning fully away from the musical instrument that was his pride and joy and facing Hiro. "Nakano-san, he is also concerned for the band's welfare."

"I am certain he spares one other person more concern than he would the band," Hiro muttered. "And I would quite like to borrow one of K's 'babies' and shoot the bastard in question through his heart."

"If he has one," Fujisaki nodded in perfect agreement. "Get in line behind the bad karma," He turned to flip a few switches on his keyboard before stretching his fingers back carefully in preparation for musical composition, "He will get what he deserves, Nakano-san."

--

--

--

If it wasn't the regular plugging, the innumerable billboards or the TV and radio guest appearances, it would have to be the crowd.

One can turn away from the posters and billboards, can switch off the radio or TV, but it is difficult to tune out the squeals or high-pitched conversations. All of it on endless loop about Bad Luck and its new album set to release in just a few more days. It was driving him positively _mad_.

Uesugi "Yuki" Eiri felt that if he had to hear his former lover's name or more about said lover's band one more time, he would be certain to relinquish his hold on his sanity.

That was until he had all sense knocked out of him when he actually spied the lithe little singer for himself.

He froze.

There was no mistaking that walk and no forgetting that smile –it was Shindou Shuichi who had just walked out of the hospital's swinging doors. Shuichi was rather poorly disguised with black dyed hair, a pair of glasses and rugged casual day wear. Flanked by one very sombre looking slender girl and a tall flame-red coiffed young man, he walked sedately by, perpendicular to Eiri's path from the side parking lot.

Both looked to be about Shuichi's age; Eiri recognised neither. The girl was dressed in a slim fitting flower print shirt-dress over a pair of dark trousers under her quilted coat, her slight frame making her look almost boyish. She had perfectly straight brown hair that fell into a straight chop across her back just above her elbow, with blunt cut bangs falling to just above her large brown eyes. Flame Hair, who stood quite substantially over Shuichi, was wearing dark jeans and a tee shirt under his sporty ski jacket, hair shaped upright making him look even taller. He was bent a little toward Shuichi saying something the singer obviously found funny.

The familiar, melodious laugh made Eiri's stomach clench. Who were these people and why were they coming out of the hospital?

Then again he really didn't care. That right there was the man who had been occupying the better part of his waking thoughts and the shadows of his dreams. He blatantly stared, watching them make their way down the path toward the hospital front bus stop. They joked and talked, the volume changing constantly, a mark of an absorbed conversation. They laughed a few times, but Eiri's ears strained to attend to only one source.

When the bus arrived and the trio boarded, Eiri lost sight of them and finally released a breath he had not been aware of holding. He took stock of himself and found his heart beating madly, breath ragged.

Shuichi was gone again.

Nothing to see.

Plenty to think, though, and race his mind did.

It was what bothered him about being in public –they sank into his consciousness. Watching people made Eiri's mind work and think, conjure up back stories to the excerpts of life he witnessed on streets and in shops. How else did he have so much to say, so many stories to tell and more thoughts than his mind could store? Life happened all around him and his mind unconsciously painted scenes and backgrounds to everything he witnessed.

A girl could glare at a companion in her little group as they walked along, and Eiri would see a secret love triangle. A conservatively dressed middle-aged man could watch a punk-rock teen skateboard by, and Eiri would see a man wondering after his lost son somewhere in the world. Parallel words unfolded before Eiri's eyes, and seeing Shuichi today was no different.

A new girlfriend; a new boyfriend; a boyfriend and the boyfriend's sister, or backwards. The ideas were endless.

But Shuichi was gone.

Nothing to see.

Time to move along.

**--**

**--**

**--**

"_Nii-chan_ isn't here," Maiko insisted, leading the way into the living room.

Shindou Maiko's three friends, Miaka, Haruhi and Tamaki glanced about the simple house with some trepidation.

Maiko's cram school friends had heard little about Maiko's brother, only that he was very busy with his career in Tokyo. They had observed how the Shindou family possessed stylish clothing, a new car and whizzy technological gadgetry, not to mention the nice new furniture additions and other assorted luxuries. A few who bothered to busy-body in their little lecture hall were aware that Mr Shindou's wages did not allow such trappings, and a few had indulged in gossiping of the fantasy that Maiko's brother was involved with the Yakuza.

Miaka, Haruhi and Tamaki had, of course, asked their friend for more information about her brother but while Maiko denied gang involvement, she neither supplied her brother's true occupation nor answered further probing queries about him.

"So, do you think we might get to meet him?" Tamaki bravely asked with an uncertain voice, although his surroundings look normal enough in his own opinion.

"And we would not wish to be any trouble, of course." Haruhi added. Miaka was too nervous to contribute anything.

Maiko sighed.

They were supposed to be spending the night over at the Bad Luck house while Shuichi and the group were away at the studio finalizing another single. No one would be home until the early hours of the morning around the time they planned to hit the shops before disappearing back home. She was rather thankful she hadn't told her new friends about her brother, but it was becoming annoying that they refused to relax. She would have preferred to have her eye teeth removed without anaesthesia than to convince these three to return to this house again.

"He knows you are here and you are in no one's way at all," Maiko cheerily assured them, ignoring the other questions, indicating that they should take their bags upstairs. She led the troupe up the steps, making noise and feeling at home. "They're working late into the early morning so no one will be in until after we have all left." Good thing too, she thought, or K might give them all a heart attack.

Maiko tossed her things into Shuichi's room before putting the two girls in the guest room and Tamaki in Hiro's room. Tamaki whistled appreciatively at the expensive guitar and other equipment lying in one corner of the room. She warned him forthrightly, "I really don't think you should nose around in here."

She showed them where the extra futons were for them to use on top of the regular bedding or on the floor, and showed them the bathroom and toilet.

As they trooped down together, honestly, one would think they were expecting people to jump out of the woodwork!, Maiko heard the distinct sound of the front door opening. Her three companions froze in their steps on the stair.

"Who's there?" Maiko called, not remembering if she had heard the intruder use a key.

"Who's in my house?" The voice countered.

"_Nii-chan!_" Maiko lightly jogged the rest of the way down and met him in the foyer. "I thought you would be out at NG all night!"

"NG?" Tamaki was shaken out of his pause.

He and the two girls exchanged glances before proceeding down the steps, the foyer coming into view again. They stared as their friend put her hands on her hips and glared _down_ at who they supposed was her older brother. The young man grinned impishly up at his sibling and, with a hand, mussed his black locks, the other hand on his hip. He looked scruffy and _normal_ in faded jeans, cotton layers and worn sneakers. His glasses skewed comically on his face as he scratched his head.

"I was supposed to but I finished my bit early," He brightened suddenly. "Would you like to go out clubbing with me? I have a friend-"

"First tell me what happened to your hair!" Maiko demanded.

"Oh, it's wash-out colour! I was out in town and needed a disguise--" The three on the stairs gasped at the word 'disguise'. "--but it's really itchy. Hold on while I go wash this out. You and your friends decide if you want to hang out tonight."

With that, the little blur sped off down the ground floor hall. Maiko turned to regard her friends expectantly. "There you are. I'll introduce you when he returns. He's a nice guy, really."

Miaka hesitantly spoke up. "I would like to go clubbing…" Haruhi glared. "Well, I did say I would like to visit a Tokyo club this time!"

Tamaki rolled the idea around a little in his head. It would be fun, and he hadn't been to any parties in the city yet. Would be a shame to let this opportunity slide… They mulled about it for a while and decided that if they could all find things suitable to wear, that they would go out.

Maiko grinned at them. "_Nii-chan_ might have a few things that we can borrow, actually. He has a collection of really funky clothes in one of the closets upstairs."

Haruhi looked nervous at that idea. "Why would he have clothes suitable for girls?"

Miaka's expression echoed Haruhi's apprehension at that idea. Maiko waved their concern aside. "He just has a lot of club wear stuff that is really adjustable and versatile. It could be worn by a guy--" She shot Tamaki a pointed look, "--or a girl and it would still look great!"

"So what's the verdict?" Shuichi bounced back, towel about his shoulders as he vigorously scrubbed the wetness away.

The three turned to look and then stare at the transformed pink hair framing a spectacles-free face they now all recognised –one which graced not only a few of their own CDs, but more advertising space across the nation than they could fathom. They identified him in unison,

"Shindou Shuichi of Bad Luck!"

Shuichi smiled. "That's me!" He smiled warmly at them before turning to his sister. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

"Not on your life."

"Let's try this again," He sighed, facing them again with a charming grin in place. "Welcome to my home."

They stared in stunned silence.

Shuichi groaned, "Maiko!"

**--**

**--**

**--**

The mid January chill could storm all it liked but it would never invade the sanctity of Seguchi Tohma's presidential suite of an office.

Just as the mess and torment of the world did little to affect the unbending iron of his will and purpose in the world. He had plans and they would happen; it was that simple.

It was people that shook things up for him. They were predictable, familiar and boring chess pieces for the most part, but the few who surprised him… well, they were special. He liked them; these curious persons that refused to conform to him, who denied him control. They had such spirit he found them quite exciting.

He supposed that if he tried, he could break them. But he knew it would be the last thing these kinds of people would allow him to do. In the end, they would be like those pretty porcelain dolls –grace and beauty still evident as the irreparable pieces lie across the floor, taunting him. And they would be empty. Being broken would be the last surrender, a point from which they would not return. Really, what would be the purpose in achieving that other than to test his cruelty? They were so much more enthralling just the way they were.

They sparred and sniped back, made messes Tohma would have to clean up, and went one way when he expected and maybe forced them to go another. Eyes flashing and tempers flaring, it made him shudder. In his barren and numb world of plot and control, they shook him to his core.

They made him feel _alive_.

The person who had most recently caught his interest was still constantly surprising him, and Tohma found himself all the more intrigued. He was very interested in this Shindou Shuichi.

He supposed that he had never expected the young man to become so important to him but the series of events leading to today had gone rather well, had unfolded sensibly, all things considered. He found it was not unpleasant to appreciate Shuichi.

Tohma lounged back in his leather chair and idly pondered how things had been one hell of an emotional hurricane for the singer.

He had watched the downward spiral of things that reduced the man to a core of will and determination. Tohma was amazed, really, and the rock star never ceased to surprise him these days. The Shuichi he thought he had known would have cracked and broken down into a catatonic state by now. Instead, Tohma found himself with a calculating and controlled, very talented and skilled asset on his hands. The intensity that had caught his attention back in the early days when Bad Luck was only an opening act, was now concentrated into a precise and raw power.

That commanding and potent air was a rare commodity in this business and he understood what this development would mean in terms of Shuichi's worth to NG Records… and to him personally.

He had no choice in not only recognising, but respecting the young man.

Tohma swung his seat back around to face his desk, elbows resting on the arm rests, hands folded together across his chest. He turned to survey the set up in the far side of his office, the remains of an exclusive press conference held earlier.

"Can you share any thoughts on a future with a new relationship?" That annoying Kaoruko columnist had asked Shuichi. K had reached to draw his gun but no one had noticed, all silent and focused on the recipient of the query, waiting on bated breath for the reply.

Shuichi had casually waved to K, keeping his audience's attention on him by allowing his smile to widen into a grin. _I can handle this,_ His gesture said.

"If you all keep hounding me like you have been for the past months, how in the world am I going to meet anyone new and get around to courting someone?" They chuckled, eating out of his hand as he twinkled at them.

"Certainly my love life has been the object of a lot of speculation," Shuichi wisely jumped ahead as the mirth died down, cutting off the opportunity for further uncomfortable questions. "Fans are still curious about what happened and what will happen in my love life." His speech slowed and dropped in volume almost imperceptibly yet steadily as he spoke, bringing the reporters into his pace and forcing them to quiet if they wanted to hear what he had to say. "I should address this, so I am considering an exclusive interview sometime in the near future to outline everything that I have to say on the matters of my heart, both past _and_ future."

The gasps were loud.

Then the quiet rumble began: When, with who, how and why… they were quietly and madly excited; a few pulled out their mobile phones and frantically began to send messages, scrambling to rally the forces. They all knew what this meant: Highest bidder wins the interview. And they were scrambling for dibs on it.

Shuichi gestured for them to calm, "Please be patient with us while we sort this out, I need to come to better terms with the past myself and prepare to speak on the topic." Oh they were delirious now. He smiled prettily at them, intensity evident in his eyes, and wrapped things up. "I'll see you all at the party later. Thank you for coming!"

_Should_, he had said. _Considering_, he had said. Genius!

Tohma had to swallow his smile having not been expecting Shuichi to employ such a tactic. He'd supplied something along the lines of what they wanted to hear but nothing concrete, tossing out a lure too good not to bite. Even Fujisaki Suguru had been shocked at Shuichi's forward thinking and Tohma found he did not particularly like being part of the category of people who were constantly underestimating the singer.

Hmm. 'Singer' was no longer an appropriate pronoun in reference to Shuichi… And Tohma still thought it was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Thinking about the many people, the contacts, waiting to be networked downstairs at the Bad Luck album launch party made him very excited. He and Shuichi had a lot of work to do…

"He's with Mika-san at the moment," K announced, making his usual noisy and unannounced entrance, pulling Tohma out of his musings. "He will be up to join us shortly." He narrowed his eyes at the calm blonde behind the desk as he threw himself into a seat. "Now, what is this 'important matter to discuss' that you mentioned?"

Tohma eyed his most talented manager as he leaned forward over his desk, elbows shifting to rest on the smooth wood surface, lips curved in smiling mask.

"Perhaps you might share Nakano-san's news with me first?" It was not really a question. He listened patiently to the retelling, processed the additional information and made his calculations. K waited, familiar with the process. A low, concerned voice was not expected, however.

"You are right in that something must be done, Mr. K," He pinned the blonde with a meaningful gaze. "But at present, while we do know that the problem will eventually find its own end, we do not know what we will be left with afterward."

K tensed.

Tohma watched him carefully. "We have need to prepare damage control because Shuichi is sick, Mr. K," Eyes unguarded and posture tense, he knew he was probably communicating more of his concern than he might have preferred. "A tumour has been found near his left brain stem, in a rather… uncomfortable location."

K's expression drew together in a pinched scowl, eyes glittering with their intensity, and Tohma recognised the symptoms of K's version of shock.

"He has been undergoing tests and evaluations, is under medication and therapy. His condition is stable and he appears to be managing very well both professionally and personally, considering his circumstance." As Tohma explained, referred to past time landmarks and outlined the situation, he also carefully watched his listener's reactions.

"Upon Shuichi's insistence, the album launch and tour will go ahead as scheduled. Things have been moving at their deceptively steady pace, quite as though nothing in the world were wrong." Tohma paused to give a small smile. "But I suspect that Shuichi has been working on that from all sides, has he not?"

Recognition glimmered in K's eyes, and he nodded in affirmative.

Without pause, Tohma relentlessly forged ahead. "And today, in order to prepare afore mentioned damage control, Noriko, Ryuichi, Shuichi and I will be pre-recording the press announcement of the merge between Bad Luck and Nittle Grasper."

K's jaw dropped.

Tohma honestly lamented that he would not have time to savour the view as he continued, "The past two years have taught me that I cannot remain both NG Records president and a keyboardist in a band at the same time. Nittle Grasper will soon find itself incomplete." He paused briefly, about to touch on the most weighty matter of the discussion, and chose his words with care. "And in the event that Bad Luck should find itself in need of a singer, both bands will be able to address each other's needs –hence the merge."

K snapped to attention. "What do you mean 'in the even that Bad Luck should find itself in need of a singer? You just said-"

"Yes, I said 'in the event', Mr. K," Tohma interrupted smoothly. "Shuichi's operation is scheduled to take place after the tour."

"Operation…" The normally imposing manager muttered weakly as he passed a hand over his face.

"He will be leaving for America almost as soon as he returns from the tour where he will be taken in to a very successful hospital in Washington DC," Tohma explained briefly, outlining time lines and expectations. He took a breath before continuing, "If he… does not return, then this video along with a few others will be released to the press."

K gathered himself in his seat, tensed and furious, "And if he does not return?" His eyes narrowed, genuinely angry at the NG President, "_If he does not return?!_ You should hear yourself, this is madness!"

"It's Shuichi's wish," Ryuichi's voice charged in from the doorway. The Nittle Grasper singer strode into the room, outlandishly dressed as usual, but sporting a rare and serious expression. He came to a stop before the outraged Mr. K and turned his glittering gaze down on his former manager. "And quite possibly, like it or not, perhaps his last wish. Who are we to deny him this?"

"Indeed it is Shuichi's will that we make preparations," Tohma cut in, attempting to diffuse the growing tension. "He has been very specific about what he wants and what to prepare for and I refuse to ignore his very sensible arguments." He slowly stood, resting his palms on the desk. "Needless to say, if all goes smoothly then there will be no need to… complicate things and no one would be the wiser. Setting aside the grim reasons behind this decision, in the event that the… preparations are found to have been necessary it would make a lot of people quite happy."

"Sounds like a morbid consolation prize!" K snapped, surging to his feet, refusing to allow Tohma's purposeful stance to intimidate him.

"View it as you wish, decide your opinion and then kindly share your thoughts with me, but you are not to breathe a word of this to anyone. And spare Sakano," He added, almost as an after thought, "All he knows is that Shuichi-san is going to America to meet a music teacher friend of mine."

"And for Public Consumption, you declared that the band would be on break after the tour for cranking out an album nearly every 10 months," K glared at the smaller blonde across the desk. "That was slick, Seguchi-san."

"Nonsense," Tohma plastered on his calm smile, that 'I am in control' curve that Mr. K had come to recognise as the wall that separated Seguchi Tohma from the world of mere mortals. "I believe that you can rise to this challenge. The resulting band will, after all, be yours to manage."

Damn that sweet tone of voice.

The gears engaged in K's minds. No doubt the resulting band would be the handful of a lifetime, with the 'past meets future' coming together in a storm that could quite possible surpass… No, no, no! Not supposed to be liking this idea, damn it, what with it being at the cost of a life.

Shindou Shuichi's life.

He had no idea how to process this, what to do on the matter. How does one wake up and find that all is not as it seems? Poor kid must be breaking apart…

_No, actually he isn't. _

K frowned.

So _that's_ what's been going on. Damn Tohma. No wonder he and his wife had been stealing that boy from him so much; stealing him away from the friends who would have hounded the boy instead of letting him get on with his life. The boy was probably up to his eyeballs in work.

Escorting Mika to functions, appearing at Seguchi Tohma's side a few times too often, K had honestly thought it was the Seguchis' way of showing their support of one of NG Records' top talents. K snorted. Should have learned long ago not to believe anything that appeared simple where NG was concerned, and it was damnably embarrassing to get caught out like this.

The unannounced knock on the door pronounced the arrival of Tohma's wife, Mika, with the pink-haired spazz in tow. K met Tohma's gaze, who shook his head slightly.

_Mika doesn't know,_ K realised. _It's now or never._

"It's about time!" Boomed the American, glaring at the object of his worries. He disliked Tohma's satisfied smile, but concentrated on getting things going. This would need his full attention.

"Well, I could hardly deny Queen Mika's wishes!" protested Shuichi, cute pout in place, "When Her Highness demands, all must submit," he flashed Mika a teasing grin before turning to regard his childhood idol. "Hey, Ryuichi-san, how are you doing?"

The two reduced themselves to children as they flicked through the wardrobe and accessories rack in the far corner of the room, joking about hairstyles and style. Ryuichi snagged an electric blue eye liner pencil and proceeded to doodle on Shuichi's face. The younger boy giggled madly. Mika sighed, and turned to her husband.

"Honestly, those two are such idiots!" She did not miss the tense look between her husband and the tall American that she'd just interrupted, too smooth to let her surprise break her sentence. She was a Seguchi now, after all.

Pressing a button on his telephone console, Tohma uttered two words, "We're ready."

Ready for what, one could wonder.

"Remember we have dinner at my aunt's tonight, Tohma," She smilingly reminded him before asking, "What colour?"

She nodded at his reply and swept from the room after quick good byes. His choice of clothing colour for tonight known, she would conform her wardrobe accordingly. They were a powerful couple, the president and the marketing head, and from family dinner to industry event they would always appear at their best.

What happened in private was another matter, and she rather looked forward to unravelling her husband's latest little secret. In the hall, the awaited elevator opened to release a senior small-production team obviously en route to the office she'd just departed.

_Yes, I am looking forward to it very much._

--

In the presidential office, K began waving his firearm madly at the crew demanding they assure him of their oath to secrecy. Really, it was not as if anyone would dare to cross NG Records or Seguchi Tohma. Ryuichi was fussing with K, trying to reassure the production crew of their safety in between them trying to convince him not to burst into tears.

Tohma settled himself down onto the little couch fitted into the recessed window near Shuichi, who was perched on the arm rest, cotton ball in hand, methodically removing the liner pencil writing on his face. "The documentary is going well, Shuichi-san, as I am sure you know."

Shuichi tossed Tohma a small smile, continuing his ministrations on himself but remaining in attention.

It was never a strange thing for cameras to appear within the NG halls in a normal working day. There were always production crews at work somewhere in the building, catching what they could of the working day on camera inside these no-press-allowed walls of NG Records. So the crew hung around Bad Luck more often these days, it was easily explained away by the upcoming album.

Hiro and Fujisaki did not need to know that Tohma was recording a Farewell music video for Shuichi to record what might very well be his last press address.

"Ryuichi and Noriko are enthusiastic about the possibility of a merge," Tohma spoke with complete gentleness. "But as you know, I would rather this not be discussing this at all, much less… preparing."

Shuichi tossed his used cotton ball into a nearby rubbish bin, turned back to impassively meet Tohma's gaze and said nothing.

"I trust them, Ryuichi and Noriko, with all these developments." Tohma paused for the briefest moment. "Will you not reconsider sharing your news with your own band mates?"

"I trust my band mates, Tohma-san," Shuichi's voice had that flat, emotionless tone to it that the older man particularly disliked. "I trust them wholeheartedly, but I also love them. I do not want them worrying and fussing, straining themselves and not enjoying what might be one of the best tours of our career." He turned to watch Ryuichi who, without Noriko to keep him calm and occupied, was now very successfully bothering the production crew.

"No regrets, then?" Tohma asked softly.

"Only that it has to be like this."

"This is only a safety net, and it is not one I am comfortable preparing."

"I know, and I am truly thankful for all that you are doing." Shuichi continued to watch the Nittle Grasper singer's antics. Watching Ryuichi make a noisy fuss across the room made the two quiet gentlemen all the more aware of the silence between them. Tohma sighed softly. He turned and glared until Shuichi met his gaze.

"You are protecting even me, Shuichi, and that is too much to ask of yourself."

Shuichi quirked a brow at the blonde over the use of his first name, but smiled calmly.

"That should be my expression," Tohma observed dryly.

"I think I learned it from you, Tohma-san." Shuichi's smile became a fraction warmer, more sincere. The two shared a small smile. "What about Sakano?"

Tohma accepted the wind-down in the conversation topic without fuss. Shuichi could only speak of the darker option in his future for so long. "He will remain in his position as a producer," He moved over on the couch so that Shuichi could move down from his arm rest perch.

Shuichi did not respond as he shifted, staring a little sadly at Ryuichi perched on a high stool and on the receiving end of the stylist's ministration.

"I firmly believe things will work out for the best, Shuichi,"

The young man nodded unenthusiastically in acknowledgement of his words, standing as another of the crew waved him over.

Tohma reached out a wrapped his slim fingers about Shuichi's wrist and, almost immediately, Ryuichi upset one of the standing lighting fixtures. The NG president suspected that his singer had been watching them carefully, ready to draw attention away from the two speaking solemnly in the far corner if necessary.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity he seized the precious moment. At a volume that dissipates too quickly into the thin air, he softly whispered up at the young man, "Do you miss him?"

There was no mistaking whom _'him'_ it was that Tohma referred to. He whispered back, the topic too fragile to be discussed in a normal voice. "All the time, Tohma, asleep or awake."

All things considered, Tohma had nothing substantial to reply to that. "I'm sorry."

Wrist released, Shuichi drew a breath and stepped forward ready to work. He did not glance back at the sad figure watching silently from the far couch.

**--**

**--**

**--**

At the NG Album launch party for Bad Luck's latest, Shindou Shuichi was nothing short of a sparkling star.

People flocked to congratulate him on his newest success, to press congratulations at the album's debut in the number one spot of the charts. His smiled at everyone, fielded praise out to his band mates and co-workers, accepted business cards and distributed his own. He was the epitome of graciousness.

Before the split with Yuki Eiri, he had been mostly loved as a spoilt little rock star. But since he'd had plenty of time on his hands and sunk his claws further into the NG label, people were discovering what an utterly charming and well-bred young man he was. The attention had followed into the singer's world and shed light into almost every corner.

Spoilt little star? Please.

Awake at dawn, exercising to maintain his cardiac strength, dance class, singing class, tutors and producers. Long days filled with physical and mental work with a few creative sessions thrown into the mix before all ending in a rather late night when most were done with dinner and getting ready for bed. Who'd have thought that stars worked so hard?

And he was… different.

Despite the restoration of his hair colour to the distinctive pink, there was initially little to connect the dots to the well-presented and clever man the industry was suddenly faced with. They took to him, of course, and he reigned princely in Tohma's little kingdom.

This evening he was dressed in a deep plum coloured dress shirt, making his eyes appear lighter and brighter, under an ash-grey pinstripe suit. From his suit breast pocket poked a silver kerchief to match the silver of his tie, upon which perched a tasteful amethyst dragonfly brooch.

With his music-politics knowledge as sharp as ever, he talked company representatives into buying into NG assets. NG Records was, after all, not just a production company, but an empire of voice and music talents to suit many purposes. TV time advertisement jingles needed songwriters, too. He even got a good word in with a movie director who might have need for a soundtrack in his film currently in production.

He courted, wooed and flirted his way through the crowds of his own album launch party until even the serving staff wondered at where he got his stamina. They were used to it, charmed by the young man's easy going and genuine personality. He knew most of them by name and politely thanked them each for service rendered. They still worried; such was the force of character in him. They knew this would be a fast paced evening for him and so took the initiative to bring him drinks, bring him food. They surreptitiously smiled and whispered words of care and caution.

It was noticed.

Furtive glances, pointed stares. There were more than a few people in the crowd who watched the handsome young man with interest. And watched how well-received he was by both executives and staff. He was as warm and approachable as ever. And it drew people all the more to him…

--

A pair of deep aquamarine eyes flitted back to Shuichi occasionally throughout the night, assessing the singer's state before turning back to whatever was at hand. The King of the ball himself was not above intense scrutiny, so he was careful with his habit of watching over his Prince. At one instance, he paused to note Shuichi's suddenly tense posture. The boy's eyes glittered, brows drawn ever so slightly together, glaring at something or someone across the room.

Following the line of sight, Tohma found his eyes captured by a familiar shade of blonde amidst a faint cloud of smoke. Ah, but it was not who either had expected. He recognised the tall Swiss-Japanese producer friend he had roped in to work on one of NG's many projects.

False alarm. He returned to his conversation.

Later in the night, he found his way to Shuichi's side and gracefully stepped into the conversation in flow. Apart, the two were impressive, together, they were magical. They held court until Mika came forward, undoubtedly their Queen. Despite her reputation as an NG marketing shark, she relaxed when in the company of these two men who acquiesced to her every wish. By her husband's side, she appreciated the humour of the little star and calmed enough to laugh. The trio chatted and bantered with such shine that cameras began flashing all over again.

--

Of course, it was all over the newspapers the next day.

"Ah, Shindou-sama," Miho-san exclaimed. "You looked quite dashing last night!"

Shuichi smiled a little as he shoved the mobile phone into the crook of his neck between shoulder and chin, freeing his hands to attend to his shoes. "Thank you, Miho-san!" He could imagine the old man in his apron and gloves standing amidst his florist shop displays. "I appreciate your compliments so early in the morning, but I was wondering if it would still be possible to order a bouquet of flowers for Valentine's Day. It's very late, I know-"

"Aha!" Miho-san interrupted, voice distant from the receiver as he seemed to speak to someone in his shop. "I told you he would order from us, we do this for him every year! I win!"

Someone spoke in the background, too far away for Shuichi to make out the words.

"Don't worry about a thing, Shindou-sama," Miho-san's pride evident in his voice. "Shall we prepare the usual three dozen roses for delivery to the usual address?"

"Yes, please." Shuichi paused, uncertain. "Er, Miho-san, did you have a bet going about me?"

Miho-san's voice sounded sheepish across the line. "Ahh, well… you see…" He snapped out of his embarrassment and exclaimed, "I offer my sincerest apologies, please do not take offence!"

"Ah, don't worry about it, I was just curious." He bit his lip. "Urm… what was the bet about?"

"This idiot cousin of mine thought that you would not be sending flowers to Yuki-sama this year," Miho-san declared this as though it were the world's greatest piece of drivel he had ever encountered. "I believed no such thing."

"Thank you then, Miho-san," Shuichi plastered on his business smile, never mind the man would not see it. It was important only that the smile affected his voice. "I apologise for the short notice again." After the usual goodbyes and arrangement of details, he hung up and tossed his phone into his back pack.

"How do you feel now?"

"Strangely discontent," Shuichi smiled at his friend before leaving the hospital.

As he settled into the backseat of the company car, he muttered to himself, "But better."

--


	6. Transitions

CHAPTER 6 – Transitions

-

-

-

Eiri did not bother to greet his nuisance of a visitor.

He had opened the front door, acknowledged the man with a nod and turned away from the doorway. Surely the president of a business empire knew how to shut a door behind him and find a seat? Unfortunately, he did not know how to mind his own business. Eiri really ought to be used to it.

"You're a mess, Eiri-san." Tohma commented, usual sweet smile upon his face.

'Eiri-san' ignored him. He was already on his way past to fetch soda cans for himself and his guest. Returning, he threw himself onto his couch and popped the tab on his drink. The colourful substitute for his usual beverage went politely un-commented upon.

"I didn't see you at the album launch party last night," Tohma said conversationally as he settled himself primly onto the living room couch. "You were missed."

Eiri rolled his eyes. "Leave me alone." He said, without any real inflection. It was such an old line.

Tohma let the silence extend before pouncing on a younger topic, "As it's too much to ask you to sit and 'talk' then can I request the bare minimum and ask for you to at least tell me what happened?"

"No." The tone brooked no argument.

Tohma sighed, "If you never deign to tell me, then how am I supposed to help you?"

This was a familiar game, Tohma always trying to help by meddling in his affairs and skulking somewhere in his bid to 'look out' for him. Eiri was to some degree accustomed to it but the irritation of it never diminished. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't need your help?"

"And did you ever stop to consider that there are people who cannot help but care, who cannot help but feel for you?" Tohma felt slightly better at the sight of the cross expression in those pale hazel eyes; Eiri understood. Maintaining his gentle voice, he pressed, "Just as you cannot help but think of him, there are those of us who cannot ever stop thinking about you."

The writer snorted, but said nothing.

"If for nothing else but our sakes, do something to assuage our worries of you; talk to me, let me try and help."

"I don't want you to help me." The novelist growled.

Tohma took in the stressed words of Eiri's speech and the inflection of them before continuing, "You want Shuichi-san to help you."

Golden eyes flashing dangerously, "You have no right to-!" He broke off his rant, and looked away, shoving a hand through his blonde hair in frustration. He sighed as he heaved himself off of the couch, and went to stand by the window, looking out at the sunny streets below. "He would never, not after what I did," he muttered.

Tohma watched the tense lines in the novelist's body and sympathised. "But he is what you want."

Eiri snorted, turning further away from Tohma and more toward the window.

"And he is what you need." Tohma straightened, smoothing out his suit and walked over to stand behind Eiri. "I have an idea that may create an opportunity for us all and I think you could benefit greatly--"

"Listen to yourself!" Eiri snapped, over his shoulder, "All this is coming from you? I thought you hated him."

"I never hated him. I simply believed that he was too much for you to handle at the point in time you met." His blue-green eyes softened further, "I underestimated you… and him."

Eiri smirked humourlessly, "That must have taken something to admit."

Tohma ignored the jibe, "He gave you the strength to face Kitazawa."

Eiri glared briefly over his shoulder, angry eyes warning Tohma not to go too far.

"You have no idea how humbling it was to find you at that gravestone with your face so relaxed," Tohma insisted earnestly. He wrapped his hand gently around Eiri's elbow and turned the other man to face him. "He brought you back… gave you the strength to come home and move on when I could not." (1)

"That must have really pissed you off!" Eiri's eyes were cold and emotionless.

Expecting the lash, Tohma ignored it. He sighed again; things were never easy when dealing with this much-loved man, "All the time," he whispered up at his brother in law.

"What?"

"I asked him if he misses you," Tohma watched Eiri's eyes clear with dawning understanding. "He said 'All the time, asleep or awake'."

Eiri's brows snapped together, he wrenched his elbow free of Tohma's grip and stalked from the room toward the hall. "He should hate me," he muttered half to himself.

"Then why does he think only of you?" Tohma demanded from by the window, not following him.

The novelist paused, half turning back, sad and unfocused golden eyes staring into the distance.

"His songs, you have heard them, haven't you? They are all powerful songs." Tohma's voice was pleading now, willing the other man to understand. "I'm certain you are acutely aware that he still loves you."

Eiri stared at the advance copy CD that Tohma had placed on the coffee table. "But he can never forgive me."

"Eiri-san…"

Turning away, Eiri muttered harshly, "_I _would never forgive me and _he _should never forgive me."

-

-

-

"And are you comfortable accepting that?"

Eiri fired his therapist the most impressive glare of his repertoire.

It didn't work.

"This is part of therapy," She reminded him gently, half scolding. "You need to say it aloud, get control of communication - things need to be spelled out carefully." She shifted in her seat as she spoke. "We have been over this, Uesugi-san, about how there is a big difference between what we mean from what we speak, and an even larger difference from what we speak to what the other person understands."

Eiri scoffed, looking belligerent.

She was familiar with the writer's stubbornness, and persisted, "And there is also a difference from who we are from what people perceive… or what we make people think." Her gaze became pointed. "People can act a role, portray an idea. Perhaps you could draw me away from the truth, tell me what you think I want to hear and a waste of both our time with no result..?"

He hated when she got like this, twisting the proverbial arm. Sighing, he blasted her another stern look for the guilt trip, which he watched her disregard. Damn the impervious woman.

She smiled faintly and back pedalled a little, glad to have him back on track. "You have made such progress, Uesugi-san. But it is eternally in progress, always in improvement." She gestured gently to emphasise her point, "Nothing will be accomplished if you do not accomplish it."

He stood and crossed the room to the window, perching his hip upon the sill, to look out onto the back garden of the building. He never lay down in this office as most patients did. He refused to do anything other than either stand by this window or lounge in the wingback chair for his 'sessions'. Even now, half a year down the line since Shuichi had left him, he was as stubborn as ever. Agatsuma Sara, his psychologist, seemed to be the only person at present who could cope with and understand him.

He appreciated the relationship, it had little responsibilities attached to it; there was no easy way to hurt her.

She responded kindly and with natural warmth to everything he shared, occasionally giving her personal opinion alongside the professional one. She smiled when he made progress, and frowned when he was being moody or difficult, intentional or otherwise. And while the entire relationship was black and white, clearly outlined and going very well, it provided no sense of accomplishment, no satisfaction. She was paid to listen and listen she did.

Eiri wondered if there was ever such a thing as a perfect relationship that didn't have a catch to it somewhere.

His alcohol counselling was going well, Agatsuma-sensei spoke with him about that occasionally. He hated to count the days, though, to report how many days he had been sober. It only served as a painful reminder of the last time he had enjoyed a drink. Thankfully it was not alcohol per se that he had a problem with, that much had been established. Alcohol was more of a manifestation of the addiction to numb himself, such as accepting the women who had offered themselves to him had been.

He preferred to focus on the current stage in his program: Emotional Therapy.

They had delved a little into Eiri's frustration with Shuichi, at the way the singer had 'affected' his writing. This had been a very difficult topic to tackle for the both of them.

He had never been bothered with writing what his mind dreamed up, because it was never what he really felt. He had come to realise that proximity to Shuichi and his soul-baring music could quite possibly be responsible for him unwittingly baring his own hidden heart. Re-reading his work knowing the true figure of how many copies had sold was shaking. The people of the world were suddenly much too invasive -if that was even the correct word. He felt it was almost the emotional equivalent of undressing in public. It was his heart that had been very unconsciously undressed and Eiri wasn't yet ready to discuss that.

He was much more inclined to discuss all the other aspects of his… issues.

Anyway, he felt more comfortable discussing his 'Social Perspective'. The carefully articulated clinical term was rather annoying, but he made no fuss. He wanted something and this was a means to an end.

Regardless, the first month of therapy had been horrid. Hours had been wasted between him and Agatsuma-sensei, sitting silently in the office glaring at each other. It had taken the award-winning and professionally gifted therapist almost all the tricks in her book to open up this clam of a man, but it had paid off. And Eiri was as determined as ever to finish the program, to accomplish everything that he had set out to do.

What we think, we believe; what we believe, we enforce. What we enforce, we become. You must act as your own censor in your choice to become who you want to be.

He had had to repeat those words to himself a few times to realise how true those simple words were. It was what had helped him snap out of his emotional denial: He was always thinking dark thoughts; therefore it was quite possible he was responsible for his dark attitude in life. He recognised and wished to act upon this new notion. He could work with this… to think things through, consider them carefully and only then actually implement his intentions. It would be like writing a book; writing a book about his life. The idea that he could write his own ending, and the fear that notion itself invoked, was still something they were dealing with but Eiri liked the idea well enough.

Eiri pulled himself out of his thoughts and hesitated, gamely offering his doctor a questioning look, a silent confirmation that he was ready to proceed.

"I would like for you to tell me if you think that it is acceptable for you to not be forgiven,"

He hesitated, but the answer was perfectly honest, "Not in the least."

"Thank you, Uesugi-san,"

He found himself puzzled at the thanks. What for?

"That revealing statement took an effort to think, consider and then actually speak," She smiled encouragingly, reading his expression well, "How do you feel having said that?"

"Like shit," he glibly replied.

Agatsuma-sensei smiled patiently.

"Because I did think, consider and then actually initiate the idea of cheating on him, so I feel like shit," He growled.

Pushing aside the urge to address his guilt over something which she clinically deduced as not premeditated, she pursued the less traumatic vein in the conversation, "And his forgiveness?"

"Impossible to attain," He waved a hand dismissively, gesturing a little helplessly.

She paused a moment, calculating his posture and body language. "But you don't accept that, do you?"

Eiri paused, and turned to stare out the window again. He considered his feelings carefully. "No, I don't."

"I think that is a good thing," She offered, voice calm and positive. After a bit of a pause, she prodded further, "How does knowing that you need his forgiveness make you feel – empowering, saddening..?"

Eiri pointedly looked away, silently refusing to elaborate verbally.

Changing tactics, she tried again, "Do you want to do anything about it?"

He considered how much he had changed in the last few months, and how much he had changed in the time before that when he had been living with his hyperactive lover. He didn't want to give up on all that he had shared, all the memories he had accumulated. He didn't like how it affected him professionally, but he wanted to learn to deal with it.

He took a sighing breath before answering, "Yes, I want to do something about it," he admitted.

The doctor adjusted her eye glasses and considered his words before speaking again, "Will you do something about it, though?"

Eiri didn't trust his voice, he nodded instead. Funny, everything looked a little blurry…

"I'm happy for you, Uesugi-san," Agatsuma-sensei whispered.

Eiri turned from the window and gazed at her through vision slightly hazy with tears.

"I offer my congratulations on making that very decisive choice," She politely looked elsewhere, brushing nonexistent lint off of her clothes.

Hurriedly leaving his therapist's office, he pulled out his mobile phone as he stepped out of the building. He was mulling over what he was about to do when the call recipient answered. He uncharacteristically chewed his bottom lip a little.

"What? Yes, I'm still here, Tohma. I… I wanted to ask you about what you meant when you said something about an 'idea'…"

-

-

-

The meeting was reminiscent of the first time he and K had met beneath the same tree in this same park.

Only on this occasion, the cold wind had driven the families and children into staying indoors. The place was deserted, and the playground facilities looked haunted and lonely. Eiri shook his head, his imagination was running away again, dreaming up a scene to use in one of his books…

"This is almost like old times, Yuki-san," The American greeted in his strangely accented Japanese, as if reading his thoughts.

"But no tickets this time, am I right?" Eiri quipped sardonically, pulling his gaze from the empty scenery.

K fondly fondled his firearm through his coat, eyes gleaming nastily, "Maybe one to hell."

The two glared at each other a moment until Eiri recalled it was he who needed to play nice this time around. He was the one who needed something from this man and not the other way around.

A little uncertain, Eiri lit up a cigarette. "I hear the tour launch kicks off with a Valentine's Day concert." He offered the pack to the taller blonde.

K decided to play nice, accepting a smoke and allowing Eiri to light it for him. It was always nice to know what an enemy was thinking. "Yes, it will." He even acknowledged the statement with a slight inclination of his head, but he offered no conversational help.

Eiri sighed and took the plunge, "How is he?"

Supremely sarcastic, K replied, "Suffering, what do you think? And now you-" He snorted in annoyance, now was not the time to lose his head.

Eiri gentled his voice further, making a concentrated effort, "I saw all the tabloids and Entertainment news. I know that it was bad."

"'Bad' didn't quite cover it," K bit out succinctly. "He is better now and frankly you should leave him alone."

Eiri stood his ground, and the two glared unpleasantly at one another. Quite frankly, he did not mind the idea of the matter being reduced to fisticuffs, but he wanted answers and he wanted access. They would have to get along whether he liked it or not. "I am not backing down." He was not referring to anything in particular with that statement, but it felt satisfying to say it anyway.

Without regard for or interest in Tohma's view of the matter at hand, K decided that the self-centred novelist needed a ground-shaking reality check. "Shame," he sneered, "that you were not part of the team of us trying to keep Shuichi from killing himself. That determination would have served the group of worried family and friends well."

Eiri was floored.

He couldn't believe it.

But the look on K's face confirmed the awful truth he desperately did not want to acknowledge.

K felt rather satisfied as he considered the dawning horror on the writer's face. He mercilessly continued, deciding that if the man could not face the spoken truth of the matter that there was no way in heaven or hell that he could face the reality face to face. Better scare him off now or he would only make matters worse.

"Got a hold of one of my guns when no one was around," he took a leisurely drag on his cigarette, and relished watching Eiri's face lose what little colour it had left. "Good thing Hiro found him before he could figure out the safety catch. It happened back in September."

The cigarette dropped from Eiri's limp fingers as the weight of the topic settled fully. He dashed the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes skittering unfocused. Then his vision cleared, and his gaze hardened.

So the man has some spine in him after all, K mused, observing the writer gather his wits. A humourless smile ghosted across his features as he watched the novelist regain control of himself.

"What day?" Eiri rasped, the anger and sadness twisting in his gut.

"Hmm?"

"Do you recall what day this happened?"

K's browed furrowed as he studied the other man. Why would the day be important? He could see that the writer recognised his unspoken query over the significance of the day, and they came to a silent understanding.

"Twenty fourth," K pronounced. He waited, expectantly.

"Day after my birthday," Eiri answered the unspoken question.

As the two men processed this newest finding on Shuichi's perspective, they smoked in comfortable though hostile silence. Annoyed that he might reveal a weakness, K carefully prod into the tender topic that had bothered him for months.

"So," his voice seemed unnaturally loud after the silence, "Are you going to do anything about that woman?"

"Lawsuit," Eiri tersely replied.

Feigning nonchalance, K muttered, "Should be a wrap up case, don't see what's taking so long."

"I rather forgot to have the woman sign a Non Disclosure Agreement." Eiri snapped, sarcastically.

"I see." K's eyes blazed.

Eiri realised with a sinking feeling that he had fallen into a trap. He ran a hand through his hair in annoyance, feeling rather sheepish at needing to pronounce his own weakness. "You didn't know for sure, did you?"

"Shuichi talks only to Hiroshi about these matters." K continued to glower.

Eiri felt that old familiar flash of jealousy. Shuichi was always running to that guitarist friend of his when he needed assurances about his singing, stage performance, self-esteem… for just about every damn thing. Anything emotional, anything personal and Hiroshi was the person Shuichi called.

Not him.

Never Eiri.

He mussed his hair further then swallowed the frustration that was nearly overtaking him. He paced a little, a few steps about where he stood. Hiroshi would know the full story. Damn it. He would have to call the man and--

"Kumagurou beam!"

Dear God, not him.

"He wanted to call you, na no da!"

Eiri's attention was peaked by Ryuichi's words, watching the child-man snatch the abomination of a plush toy out of the air from where it had bounced off of his face.

"He had a birthday present for you all prepared! It made him sad he couldn't wish you a happy birthday."

Eiri felt his stomach clench, suspicions confirmed.

"We took his mobile phone away so he couldn't call… anyone." K supplied, the replacement of the last word escaping no one. "We felt it was best that we control him during that time, and removed his contact to the outside world."

Ryuichi regarded Eiri solemnly, features smoothing into a solemn parody of his usual childlike self. "You are a bad man for doing something so low and irresponsible." he said, voice low and dangerous.

Eiri really didn't need it rubbed in, but he kept silent and surveyed the empty playground once more. Looking at anything rather than have to see the accusation in the eyes of the two men beside him.

"He isn't just hurt and betrayed, his disappointment is overwhelming," Ryuichi pressed on ruthlessly, "He always felt that you were better than that,"

Eiri silently pondered how Shuichi had once told him that people who call another a fool, are fools themselves. Feeling quite foolish indeed, he surreptitiously studied the barely contained K and the furious singer. Their body language displayed pointed hostility, yet neither made any motion to harm him. With an inward grimace, he realised it must have been at Shuichi's request, and most likely after the incident at NG when Fujisaki had struck him.

It did not, however, restrain either man from harming him with their tongues.

"He thought something of you, believed in you with all his heart and now he feels that his own heart has lied to him." Ryuichi hissed as his blue eyes icy with controlled fury. "How dare you destroy that self belief?"

Eiri shook his head without really thinking, and without satisfactory words of denial or explanation.

The singer's eyes flashed, fists clenching as K carefully wrapped a hand around the enraged man's forearm –just in case. "You have done enough," he accused, voice dripping with venom. "If you were to reunite with him you would only hurt him all over again, wouldn't you?"

K's approval of the harsh words shone in his eyes as he levelled one last chilling blast at the stricken writer, before turning to leave with Ryuichi in tow.

Eiri's hands shook a little as he lit another cigarette, reviewing Ryuichi's parting shots. He could not help but recall a recent session with his therapist when they had discussed relationships as a whole:

"All relationships begin with friendship before they can become anything else, "Agatsuma-sensei had pronounced emphatically, "Even family must become friends, blood just forces them to deal with each other. But friendship, the most basic of all connections, is what keeps the relationship going."

Eiri absorbed that as he leaned back in his chair. He considered how many friends he had, his relationships with them, and what kind of a friendship he had shared with Shuichi.

"Romantically," she continued, "There are usually more complications, emotions that pre-exist regardless of the state of the friendship, such as an attraction." She fixed a pointed look on her patient. "It is an effort to remember that your partner is also a friend. In fact, a friend with whom you share not just your time and company, one whom you have feelings for or are attracted to; but someone with whom you share your heart and body."

"I don't think he was really my friend," Eiri provided, hands splayed with his palms upward in a slightly distressed gesticulation.

Agatsuma-sensei shook her head, "You had a bond, regardless, did you not?"

Eiri frowned, disliking the use of past tenses when discussing this topic. "But that bond, as you call it, was severed rather effectively." He sounded morose to his own ears.

Agatsuma-sensei sidestepped the negativity. "Any bond must be tended to continuously over time and with effort,"

Her voice was gentle, but the blonde felt the words strike. He had never tended to Shuichi much in any way other than calculating. He had kept the boy close enough, but always within the range of his own comfort zone and never to Shuichi's satisfaction. He had not really invested any effort in the relationship. Then why did he feel so sour and offended when Shuichi had refused his advances?

The therapist watched the play of emotions across the writer's face and, noticing the man was not aware of the passing of time, continued in the vein of conversation. "But it is important that you always maintain realistic expectations of the relationship, of course. After all, you can never ask for more than what you are willing to give, is that not correct?"

Eiri digested her words, and his brows furrowed as he considered them.

"What are your expectations, what do you want, Uesugi-san, when you boil it all down?"

"I want him near me," he replied gruffly, looking away. A simple reply was always best.

"Isn't that selfish?" Agatsuma-sensei tilted her head to one side, her voice without accusation. It was merely a question.

"Yes."

She sighed softly, a small smile upon her delicate features as she displayed her approval of his honesty. "Can you think of reasons that are not selfish?"

Eiri snorted, shooting her a superior glare. "All reasons for anything a person wants are for selfish reasons."

She dipped her head in agreement. "Perhaps so, but can you think of anything proximity can allow you to give instead of take?"

He considered that. What could he give? He really did not know. Slowly, tasting the words as he spoke, he hesitantly replied, "I want him near me so that I can… be there for him."

Damn the cliché phrase.

The therapist nodded. "That is good." She watched him expectantly.

The patient inwardly groaned. He plucked a phrase from one of his own books, disgusted with the commerciality of the words. "I want to protect him, make him smile… make him-" he recalled something Shuichi once said to him, "-make him happy."

"Those are good things to want, good 'expectations', Uesugi-san."

He waved his hand dismissively, turning away to look at the window across the room. He really should move the chair sometime.

"More like a dream," he muttered.

"Why is that?"

Dense woman. "We are not good for each other, Shuichi and I." Gods, it hurt to say the words, and the backs of his eyes burned suddenly.

"Will you accept that?"

He looked at her, not really trusting his voice to remain steady at the moment.

"Will you accept the notion that you are not good for each other? The same way you wanted to believe he would never forgive you, I mean." She met his gaze with her own piercing one. "Therefore, that means you must move on from him, that everything everyone has insisted is something you acknowledge as true."

She had looked annoyingly self-satisfied, damn the woman. Eiri had recognised this as one of her traps and he knew he was about to fall into it. He had thought back to that meeting with Shuichi in the halls of NG, the moment Shuichi's eyes had met his and stolen his breath away all over again:

With gentle fingertips touching the bruise on his cheekbone which Fujisaki had gifted him with, eyes soft and concerned. 'Are you alright?' Shuichi had asked, and he considered his answer to that question before repeating it and simultaneously answering his therapist's query.

He looked out at the vacant playground, thinking of that session and the last question Ryuichi had sarcastically asked, as his reply to it all slid off his tongue,

"Never."

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(1) Reference to the last episode of the anime series where, after the closing credits, Tohma comes to New York to Kitazawa's grave and finds Eiri. The novelist had come to leave flowers, pay his respects and to close the door on the old chapter of his life. In this scene, Eiri walks wordlessly and calmly away without truly acknowledging Tohma, who is looking rather panicked. Tohma, realising that Eiri does not need him anymore called after Eiri rather desperately, asking where he was going. A small smile playing on Eiri's lips which Tohma, behind him, could not see and he replied, "I'm going home."


	7. A Day in the Life

CHAPTER 7 - A Day in the Life

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His mobile phone rang shrilly, absurdly loud in the quiet room.

Shuichi moaned and reluctantly pulled out of his partner's tender embrace. Disoriented, he glanced about searching for the offensive device. Spying it, he dived awkwardly from his perch on his lover's office desk but fell over in an ungraceful arc, the ground rushing up to meet him. Coming to a loud crash on the hardwood floor, he groaned.

He rubbed his injured shoulder and groggily sat up.

Looking around, he realised he was not on Yuki's office floor.

He was not even in Yuki's apartment.

He was in his room at home, the 'Bad Luck House' as they called it, on the floor having fallen out of bed. The sound of what he thought was a mobile phone ring was actually his alarm clock. He bounced up, wincing a little at the pain from the fall, and shut the alarm. Wide awake now, he tossed his coverlet over his bed without bothering to make it up completely.

Scratching at the imprinted skin beneath the stretchy waistline of his cotton pyjamas, he briskly made his way to the bathroom down the hall, snagging his towel off the rack on the back of his bedroom door as he went.

The warm water was revitalising, accentuated by the fresh citrus zest of his shower gel. Scrubbing the liquid wash into his hair, Shuichi pushed the remnant memories of his romantic dream firmly away and hummed a few experimental bars of the song composing itself in his head.

He could always hear music, wherever he was and whatever he was doing. It was a constant noise in his head, a persistent beat, and one he had always found comforting. No matter where, when or how, he was never really alone if he had the music.

Soaping up, he was dismayed to find his morning hard-on had not abated. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was in the way. He hissed as he soaped up, his necessary touch sending unintentional sensations sparking through his body. He really did not want to deal with this right now and instead focused on the melody he'd been working on.

He still needed to find a good beat for the tune, though.

Running through a few experimental combinations in his head as he rinsed, he methodically tested slow rhythms and worked his way up faster ones –all in his head. He had a good imagination, it wasn't too hard really. Despite the honest effort, he couldn't quite find a suitable beat and, with a sigh, he shut off the water spray and grabbed his towel. Drying off, he chewed his bottom lip a little. Maybe he just needed to hear the song put out of his head, hear it with his ears instead of his heart.

Lately, the only way to clean out a song was to 'put it down' and record it, no matter how fragmental it was. Somehow, the music in his heart had become a little distorted, and there had been occasions where he couldn't get his voice to sound like the song in his head. He sometimes felt that his body and his music were no longer communicating properly, and the lack of synchronicity could sometimes truly irritate him.

Humming the tune to himself, he shut the light and quickly marched back into his room to dress. He felt… green today.

Throwing open his closet doors, his eyes were pulled to the green section of his colour-sorted wardrobe. He snagged a fresh lime green cotton stretch tee shirt with sleeves that came down to just past his elbows. It had a large, black bulb-headed alien on the front dizzyingly clutching its head where its flying saucer had bounced off. He pulled out a pair of flare-leg low-cut dark blue jeans and selected a cotton-weave canvas military belt. He liked the camouflage green print contrast against the shirt, and decided he would choose the belt-matching boots to complete his ensemble.

Head bobbing to his own beat, he snagged a bottle of fruit-based hair crème conditioner and applied a dollop into his hands. Applying the scented pomade into his hair, he examined himself in the full length mirror mounted on the inside of his closet door. He looked… nice, but not as nice as-

Never mind that.

He elbowed the door shut, locking it in place with his foot and turned to wipe his hands down on a wet wipe. He dipped a finger into his moisturizer before dropping the tub along with his hair cream into his bag, and rubbed the cream into his face as he marched downstairs to the kitchen.

He put on his MP3 player and listened to Sakuma Ryuichi croon about loving from afar, drinking up a glass of orange juice and downing a bowl of coco pops. He checked his bright pink G-Shock watch as he put the dishes away in the dishwasher. i Six fifty five/i it read.

Shuichi paused to grin and wish a sleepy half-lidded Hiro good morning on his way out of the kitchen. Both were aware that K and Fujisaki had already departed sometime during Shuichi's shower, having left together so the manager could bring the younger boy to school before heading in to work.

They heard a car horn sound a quick blast from outside.

"Itekimas! " (1) He yelled from the door, after pulling his boots out of the shoe cabinet by the door. He grabbed a chocolate brown lined leather coat from the coat closet to ward off the February cold.

"Iterashai!" (2) replied his sleepy best friend.

With his chauffeur and sometimes body guard, Komamura-san, to ferry him about his day, Shuichi settled into the leather interior of the simple mirror-tinted Toyota Camry. He hummed and sang his way through a few melodies, jotting the music down. He scribbled in a few lines into the margins, some interesting thoughts he'd conjured, watching people on the street as they passed.

There were a lot of kids heading to school, and he envied them their uncomplicated lives. Watching them always gave him a sense of nostalgia, brought back memories of the days he had been a carefree boy attending school.

At seven twenty five, he was walking through the doors of his first stop for the day: The gym club.

Changing into appropriate apparel, Shuichi met with today's personal trainer. It was always changing, the gym staff liked to have a rota in place. Shuichi supposed it was because the staff liked to have a turn each with the celebrities who attended. There was a set program in place, the trainer was really only there to help him warm up properly and to supervise him with weight training. He didn't mind, he greeted them all politely and treated each one with the same friendly warmth. They sometimes mentioned that he was more polite to them than some of their other guests.

That was nice. He liked it when he pleased people.

At eight, Shuichi took the elevator up a few floors to the studios where he met his dance instructor, a wiry muscled young man named Nara-san. There, they ran through some hip hop and break dancing routines, sequences to both teach him more moves and to work on his cardio. The rock star loved this part of the day. He adored the music Nara-san chose everyday, the scattered bass resetting the music in his head.

By eight fifty, Shuichi was showered and re-dressed, reapplying his hair cream and moisturizer in the car.

At nine-fifteen, he arrived at NG's underground parking lot.

By nine twenty, his assistant Sachiko sat with him in their office to give Shuichi a run through of his day. He liked his office, this small but now colourful room with bean bags scattered about and music posters up on the walls. It had been a very plain looking place when he and Sachiko had first moved in. Most people didn't even know what it was really for – the door was unmarked and the IT department marked it in the company intranet directory as Hinamori Sachiko's office.

It was better that way anyway. Shuichi appreciated the anonymity of his sanctuary, understanding now why Yuki hadn't liked it when he would invade Yuki's office…

He pushed that last thought away and focused on Sachiko's voice.

There was nothing really important, though she had a few reminders that needed his attention. She was running through this week's To Do list in preparation for the upcoming Valentine's Day concert and subsequent tour. He had dance rehearsals and a dress rehearsal coming up. He nodded to everything, as she was always careful to plot his day efficiently.

Hinamori Sachiko had been 'lent' by Tohma only a few months prior, when he began work with NG Records. A lot of follow up things needed doing now that Shuichi was working more with the marketing and promotions teams. Sachiko provided much needed coordination and organisational skills that kept the pink-haired mess under control.

She was exactly Shuichi's age, a bright, quiet, solemn and very discreet young lady. Most importantly, she kept her cool whatever the situation. Her calm personality and unruffled attitude kept Shuichi balanced both in and out of work. As an exemplary NG employee, she did as she was told without questioning too far into matters –which was quite appreciated when the Bad Luck front man had therapy or slipped into an 'episode'.

Sachiko had perfectly straight chocolate brown hair chopped off at just below her shoulder, blunt cut bangs falling to just above her eye brows. Her large brown eyes, framed by lashes almost as long as Shuichi's, were innocently wide and open. Today, her boyish, slender frame was unconcernedly flattered by the little flower-print V-neck sleeveless cotton dress worn over a yellow polo shirt. She wore cream stockings with brown leather boots.

Shuichi thought her quite cute, and genuinely liked her. Her help with his work was invaluable, though sometimes she was too efficient. He had wanted things to do to fill his time when, as a vocalist, he was not needed in the recording room or production studios. So sometimes, he was rather displeased that his assistant accomplished as much as she did.

At nine-forty, Shuichi came bounding down the halls toward the recording room halls, speaking with Hiro on his mobile phone. He had wanted to reassure his concerned best friend that all was well at his 'work with Seguchi-san'. He let the guitarist off the line before bouncing into one of the lesser-used recording rooms and cheerfully greeted the assembling crew.

The staff welcomed the celebrity they had met before he had become one, asking after his band mates and music. He answered almost everything but shook his head, smile dimming, at polite queries after his former lover.

The excited yet harassed band, Jubilee, pounced on him the moment he was done with the greetings. They were happy to see him, but were stressed out and worried about their music. They bombarded him with questions and showed him sample after sample of their creativity. Shuichi laughed and teased, scolded and smiled.

They were his babies, this group.

He had written a handful of songs for them, or fed them a fragment of a melody, leaving them to compose the song as a whole. It was a challenge that he wished one had been posed to Bad Luck when they had first started out. As a i sempai /i (3), there were things that he did for them such as this which he hoped would help them become better musicians with time.

He pulled out pages full of scraps of song stanzas and paragraphs of thoughts for the band to peruse. The quartet wrote and composed almost all their music together. So it was not unusual that, together, they merged ideas and bashed out melodies. As a group of very different individuals, they agreed on more things than they logically ought to.

As Shuichi observed the youngsters, he began to feel a little… old. He envied them their bright-eyed enthusiasm and their guileless laughter. As they joked and teased, they used common words, band jokes and shared memories to conjure lyrics. They strung out their instruments and jammed for the sheer joy of it, no trend to conform to and no image to uphold. They had no critics to dent their pride and no style to conform to. They thought outside the box because they didn't know there was one. Best of all, they were young enough to love with true love, to write from that achingly honest perspective…

He felt a gaze on him, and turned to find the lead singer and bassist, a scrawny pixie of girl with long straight dusty-blonde dyed brown hair, watching him carefully. She looked startled, a faint question in her smoky eyes.

Shuichi found he had unconsciously relaxed, drawn away by his thoughts. This would not do. He immediately smiled reassuringly, she seemed to need it. He gave her his high wattage and newly trademarked smile, the media-pleasing and advertisement gracing smile. It had fooled millions over the past three months since he had stepped back into the media spotlight.

It was suddenly not working. He could see it in how she half-heartedly smiled back, concern creasing her brow. She reached out a hand to him, an offer of touch and a question to be allowed to come closer. He shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, and she withdrew.

He could see she wasn't fooled. He knew that expression she wore now.

When Shuichi let Jubilee go for lunch at one o'clock, he marched himself up to Seguchi Tohma's office. The incident with the Jubilee singer had left him feeling emotionally unmasked.

He waved at the guards who flanked the outer office doors, nodded and smiled at the secretary at her desk, and sauntered right past without pause to the inner office door. As far as he knew, only he, Mika, Ryuichi, Noriko and Eiri were allowed past her announced.

_Yuki..._

Sighing, he knocked sharply and paused for the briefest moment before pushing the door open. He found the King of the music industry sitting behind his cherry wood desk, calm smile in place, speaking to…

"Mattieu!" Shuichi smiled warmly, coming forward, holding out his hand in greeting to the Swiss-Japanese producer whom Tohma had introduced at his album launch party just the previous Saturday.

"Shindou," murmured the tall lanky blonde as he stood to shake the newcomer's hand.

Shuichi thought the man looked dashing in his double-breasted suit the colour of blue that complemented his eyes well, a lacy pale cream button down shirt peeking from beneath. Mattieu smiled in return, his bright gaze glowing with interest as they exchanged pleasantries. The vocalist recognised the intense expression in those bright blue eyes and, blushing slightly, firmly ignored it.

"Good morning, Seguchi-san," Shuichi flashed him a big smile, "I apologise for the intrusion, should I come back later?"

Tohma's smile warmed slightly as he beheld his pink-haired employee and friend, "If you please, Shindou-san," he nodded apologetically. "We have a few more things to discuss today, I'm afraid."

The NG president watched his friend carefully, missing neither the clouded expression nor the tinge of pink across his cheeks and the reason behind it.

Shuichi waved, mentioned his visit wasn't important and left, noticing how the foreigner's gaze followed him out. He sighed in the elevator, deciding his next move.

After grabbing a sandwich, a juice pack and a box of Pocky from the cafeteria, Shuichi made his way to his office. He knew he could be alone there, seeing as how none of his band mates knew it was his office, or that he even had one. They would be together by now, settling down to work on arrangements for the concert.

He made himself comfortable in one of the bean bags by the window and pulled out his trusty notebook. His hands picked at his lunch as his mind picked at his thoughts. He chewed on his pen, looking out the window, humming a distant tune. Thinking back to last night's dream, his thoughts were filled with only one thing, with only one person.

He began to write;

_Show me your winning smile, toss back your sunshine hair_

_Say goodbye coz its okay, its not like you were really there  
_

_If I smiled too, if I asked you to stay_

_Would you hold me close or push me away?_

_Your golden eyes have strung me out, I'm tangled in your line_

_Cover me in your chocolate kisses and drown me in your wine_

_Make me dizzy on your scent, let me memorize how you feel_

_Give me my last fix of you, let's pretend none of it is real_

_Fill my mouth with the taste of you until I'm completely addicted_

_You pull me close and reel me in then throw me down rejected_ (4)

"Are you feeling well today, Shuichi?" asked a gentle voice from above.

Shuichi gasped, startled, tilting his head backward to meet Tohma's gaze upside down as the man stood behind him. The blonde hair disoriented him a second, and it took him a moment to stabilise his runaway imagination. It wasn't too long before the seated boy realised that from his position, Tohma had the perfect vantage point to read the notebook in the singer's lap.

"I'm just fine, Tohma," he glanced down at the lyrics and shrugged a shoulder. "I needed to write out the dream I had last night, that's all."

The blonde walked around the occupied bean bag to sit on the window sill bench. They had dropped formal addresses, as they always did when they spoke as friends and without an audience. They were, for the time being, not employer and employee.

"Better out on paper than replaying in my head, don't you agree?" Shuichi didn't smile. He didn't need to. He regarded his visitor with a polite and friendly air, it was enough.

"Do you find it helpful to write these things down?" Tohma asked as he bent to gently tug the notebook from the younger man's lap. He re-read the lines, and absorbed a few scribbles on the opposite page.

"Much better on paper," Shuichi muttered, stretching out on the bean bag. He absently nodded assent when Tohma shot him an inquisitive look, indicating the used pages of the notebook.

As Tohma browsed his work, his emotional diary, Shuichi looked out the window, tapping a rhythm out on his leg. He had other melodies in his head.

"Do you like being married? Shuichi asked suddenly, staring at a flock of birds racing around the building tops. "Do you like belonging to one person?"

Tohma wasn't certain he wanted to decipher the emotions behind that question. He responded with humour, "Marriage is good, and you get to wear a ring." He smiled teasingly at the startled lavender gaze that flew to meet his. "A ring shows you're stable and dependable, that at least one other person on this earth can stand you."

An honest grin spread its way across Shuichi's face.

Tohma's eyes glinted evilly as he continued, "To that last bit, a ring also means that either your libido or bank account function without fault."

Shuichi's startled laughter sounded quite genuine, he decided. It was good to make the singer laugh once in a while when he was feeling dark. He had noticed it when he'd been visited earlier, that the singer had been shaken and now needed honest company. He smiled warmly, an expression only those dear to him ever had the privilege of seeing.

"Thanks," whispered the smiling boy, checking his watch before getting to his feet.

"Do you have work today?"

"Plenty!" Shuichi put his arms above his head and stretched, standing on the balls of his feet. He accepted his notebook back and stuffed it into his back pack, swinging the carrier onto his shoulder. They companionably made their way out, Shuichi nodding his thanks as they parted in the hallway.

At two thirty, Shuichi and Sachiko entered a conference room. There, they met with a local radio station manager to discuss the promotion gimmick for Jubilee's release of their new single.

At three fifteen, Shuichi gave Jubilee and their manager the update on the promotion plans.

The group showed off the afternoon's work, the beginnings of the song they'd been working on that morning. He praised them for the good work. He laughingly encouraged them to follow their hearts and reassured them of their skill and talent. He spent a little time giving ideas and providing a wall to bounce their ideas off of.

At four thirty, Shuichi went to another meeting room where Sachiko met him at the door with his keyboard. There, he faced an advertisement agent and beat out various ideas for a Pocky commercial jingle he had been working on.

At five fifteen, Shuichi sat down at his desk and laptop to run through a CD from another of NG Records' talents. While he absorbed the music, head bobbing to the beat, he filled in a questionnaire. It was from a prominent music magazine, a short column for one of their feature sections.

At six thirty, finished with the survey, he handed it back to Sachiko to deal with. Done with the CD, he wrote a blurb for the band's promotions team and, together with the disc, handed it over for his assistant to return. He logged on to his personal email account…

_You have no new mail._

At six forty five, Shuichi and Sachiko got into his car. She was dropped off at her apartment building by seven thirty in spite of the early evening traffic. Alone in the backseat, Shuichi exchanged his shirt for a filmy camouflage sleeveless top from Wardrobe at NG. He donned the accompanying leather collar and silver cross necklace.

At seven fifteen, he alighted from his car and stepped into a restaurant.

There, he was deprived of his coat and escorted to a table where he met with an interviewer from Pop Culture, a teen magazine. They laughed and teased, swapped stories and traded jokes, somehow managing to complete the dinner interview. He had sidestepped questions into his private life, obtusely relaying vague notions. He had conspiratorially pouted when the woman offered her sympathies at his failed relationship with a certain novelist.

At eight fifteen, Shuichi was charmingly escorting the lady into his car to bring her to her home, amidst flashes of a few cameras.

At eight forty-five, alone in his car again, Shuichi stared unseeingly at the passing lights. At a traffic stop, his eye was drawn to a glinting shade of yellow and he stared. Whoever it was, the blonde hair was the same, but neither the smile nor the features were what he sought. The car slowly accelerated away, banishing the vision from his sight.

At ten past nine, Shuichi took a deep breath and schooled his features before stepping from the vehicle again.

He bounded up to the front of a little club café where Tatsuha stood waiting, smoking, looking far too similar to someone else. He apologised for being late in his usual cheery voice. Shuichi noticed the young man was wearing a familiar black trench coat, but said nothing.

Inside, he sat with his back facing the crowd, so as not to see who was there and not be seen. He asked after Tatsuha's job hunting and asked about his painting. The younger man was an artist with colour as his brother was with words. Shuichi watched him talk about colours and expressions with eyes bright with excitement. He was happy for the guy, he really was.

But it was difficult to look at him and not be reminded of someone else.

He relayed how the band was doing, how the preparation were coming along. He joked about how he was of little use now that the album was finished, how Fujisaki and Hiro were doing the most work now. He invited Tatsuha to come see the dress rehearsal, as the artist would not be in Tokyo the night of the concert.

At ten fifteen, the two parted ways companionably and promised to meet up again.

At ten thirty, he bowed to thank and bid Komamura-san a pleasant evening before heading into his shared house.

"Tadaima! "(5) He called wearily.

"Okaeri!" (6) Chorused two voices from the kitchen.

Shuichi stopped by to ask after them and their day, listening to how much progress they'd made and what ideas they had come up with. Soon he pardoned himself then turned to shower, dress and ready for sleep. He laid out tomorrow's necessities and crawled into an empty and cold bed.

At eleven o'clock, Shuichi cried himself to sleep.

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(1) Itekimas – Standard greeting of departure, i.e. "I'm off" or "I'm leaving"

(2) Iterashai – Standard reply to (1), roughly meaning "Return safely"

(3) Sempai – Upperclassman; someone who is of a senior ranking. Applicable in various situations

(4) My own original work – just jotted it down thinking of Shuichi's dream, without really intending to and ended up with a poem of sorts!

(5) Tadaima – standard call for "I'm home"; In its full form, "tada ima modorimashita" which literally means "and now I have returned"

(6) Okaeri – Standard reply to (5), this is a welcoming greeting; "welcome back"


	8. From the Heart

CHAPTER 8

From the Heart

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From the look like a wet dream come true, Shuichi." Suzumiya Tasuki pronounced, a grin sweeping across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

His green eyes glowed with amusement as he beheld Shuichi's outfit for the evening's concert, the launch of Bad Luck's tour. He didn't take his eyes off of the pink haired vocalist as he nudged the slim brunette next to him. "What do you think, Sachiko?"

Hinamori Sachiko tilted her head over to one side, taking her time as she scrutinised her subject. "I am not inclined to agree with Suzumiya-san's choice of words, but I agree with the implication," She tucked her left hand under her right elbow, right index finger and thumb curled gently around her chin as she contemplated the sight before her.

Shuichi stood clad in the Wardrobe department's idea of an ensemble, with low slung leather trousers cropped at the knee and titanium-detailed lightweight combat boots. The top was mostly see-through, a flimsy material that displayed portions of his muscled front and all of his back. It displayed a large glittering, sequined and beaded purple dragonfly diagonally across his chest, one of its wings extending past the fabric at his shoulder. The top clung seductively to him like a second skin, skimming the top of a studded black belt from which hung slim silver chains hooked to loops at the back of his trousers. He wore a wide leather belted bracelet on his left wrist, to match the collar about his neck. His bright pink hair was carefully moulded to rise upward and behind him, treated with glittery pink hairspray for good measure.

Shuichi watched the girl look him over further, noting how adorable she looked with her brown eyes so open and expressive. He liked what he saw in them as she perused his attire, and grinned.

"Thanks, guys!" Shuichi grabbed his lukewarm drink, a temperature best for his vocal chords, before handing his guests each a bottle of cold iced tea from the under-dresser mini fridge. He gestured for them to take a seat on his dressing room couch.

As his two guests crossed the room, Shuichi snuck a glance at his friend and found Tasuki's eyes openly admiring his assistant. His eyes slid over her long straight hair that danced at Sachiko's merest movement, the large eyes that were the same rich brown as her hair, the slim, androgenous figure so perfectly displayed...

Shuichi inwardly giggled as he watched the man's eyes burn, watching. Oh, yes, Tasuki had it bad.

Suzumiya Tasuki, an American-Japanese, had bright green eyes and red-dyed black hair. His lanky and corded frame stood six feet tall and when his chunk-shaggy hair was gelled straight up as it usually was, he looked even taller. His good looks were accentuated by his relaxed air and easy smile.

He worked as a part-time medical technician and assistant to Shuichi's specialist doctor, Akagi Mitsui. The two had met at the hospital through Akagi-sensei but one day developed their own friendship outside of the medical scene when they had gotten to talking in the hospital cafeteria.

Tasuki had moved in from America only a year previous and was, in Shuichi's opinion, bright, open and honest. Not knowing much about Bad Luck or its tumultuous history, he didn't treat the vocalist with the same fan-boy regard that most people did. He hadn't even recognised Shuichi when they first met at the hospital, although he had mentioned he noticed how his new friend shared the same name and looks as a certain lead singer…

Shuichi had laughed at that, refreshed by the honest puzzlement. They cleared the air and, to Shuichi's intense appreciation, nothing changed between them, he was never treated differently than before. Tasuki was very natural, and Shuichi found he'd made a genuinely good, if fast, friend.

Their developing friendship had brought the two closer creatively, as well. Working part time at the hospital was just a job to Tasuki, whose true passion lay in music and, skilled as a dancer, he fancied himself a budding choreographer. While Shuichi knew nothing about Tasuki's choreographic abilities, he thought Tasuki was dynamite on the dance floor.

Their talks about music and dance introduced Shuichi to a new perspective, and he found himself brimming with plenty of new ideas to bring into the work place. Yet, all the dancer had ever asked for in return was his easy going friendship… maybe a few advance copy singles and back stage passes but then he would have supplied those anyway.

It was, Shuichi thought, taking another sip of water, a good friendship for both of them. He needed someone he could be honest with. Tasuki and Sachiko were also the only two people aside from K, Tohma and the rest of Nittle Grasper, who knew about the singer's health problem.

Gods, he missed Hiro. But the simple fact was he'd only worry if he knew what Shuichi was dealing with right now. He'd worry and coddle, and right now that was the last thing Shuichi needed. Right now, he needed to work; he needed to sing.

He needed ... not to think about the people he was hurting with his silence, the people who were better off not knowing… at least until after the tour. He'd tell them all about it soon, of course. They'd have to know before the surgery, and the truth would have to come from him.

Eventually.

"I'm glad you made it so early," Shuichi turned his gaze on Sachiko as she sat, eyes twinkling, "And happier that Tasuki convinced you to come."

Sachiko gave a small smile as she replied, "Well, you two nagged me enough," and sipped her drink, eyes downcast, a suspicious pale blush making its way across her high cheekbones. She was still unaccustomed to treating her superior as the friend he asked to be regarded as, but she was adjusting. She was quickly taking to Shuichi's warm treatment and honest personality.

Tasuki grinned down at her, commenting, "And you are looking ravishing this evening, as well, if I may say so?" With respectful admiration, he eyed her slim-fitting daisy print off-shoulder cream dress.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," She exaggeratedly returned.

Shuichi grinned, watching the dancer's eyes flare. Sachiko missed the expression, having rolled her eyes away to flash Shuichi an amused smile. He focused on the besotted boy beside her, "I hope my concert isn't going to keep you up too late, I know you have work tomorrow."

With effort, Tasuki pulled his eyes away from the beauty beside him, and shook his head in negation, "Don't worry, I told Akagi-sensei that I would be here with you tonight and that I'll be in late tomorrow." He gestured to the singer, "She's expecting us to be in at about the same time, which she mentioned would be fine since you are her only patient tomorrow."

He propped his right ankle over his left knee, lounged back and slung his arms over the back of the couch, his hand drifting only a centimetre or two above Sachiko's bare shoulder. He resisted the urge to 'accidentally' graze his fingertips over her skin, and instead glanced at the many flower arrangements and bouquets lined up along the shelves to one side of the dressing room.

He quirked a brow at Shuichi, "Say, Shu, are any of those from someone that counts?"

Shuichi smiled a little, a partly sad yet calm smile.

Tasuki liked teasing him like this, not knowing how painful the topic of romance was but Shuichi forgave him since he didn't understand the full story. He was thankful to have these two new friends with him at this point in his life, but was glad that that neither of them could read him as well as they thought.

"Hiro and I traded the usual," He said, pointing out a potted plant which sat on his dresser table in a place of honour, lavender petunias blooming forth.

At Sachiko's questioning look, Shuichi explained, "We started it back in high school when the girls put a little too much pressure on Hiro, and he needed an anonymous admirer." Shuichi grinned at the memory, real warmth in his expression. "He reciprocated later in the day, nipped his first pot of petunias from his mom's garden and it's been a tradition of ours ever since." He held up a hand, "Well, at least the flower pots are but he doesn't steal them from his mom anymore… I think."

Sachiko smiled, commenting, "You certainly have a very close relationship with Nakano-san."

Tasuki shook his head, brushing aside talk of the guitarist, "That isn't who I was referring to, Shuichi, and you know it…"

-

-

-

Eiri had frowned, "Excuse me?"

Miho-san's smile did not waver though the blonde made no move to accept the beautifully assembled flower arrangement offered. Left with little else, he set it down at the writer's feet before the doorway and gestured to it as he straightened back up. "This is for you, Yuki-sama," He bowed before turning to leave with a cheery wave. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Eiri glowered down at the striking bouquet before him that was so high it came up past his knees. Three dozen roses in a pink basket simply adorned with sprigs of Baby's Breath and curly white ribbons –an eerily familiar flower arrangement. He knew who this was from and it bothered him, confused him.

This was not making any sense at all.

But he bent, picked it up and brought it into his apartment. He set it down on the hall table beside the door and stood back to frown at it some more.

Shuichi sending him flowers was not a thought he wanted to ponder too deeply.

He scowled as he considered the delivery man, Miho-san. The man took care of all Shuichi's flower needs, making deliveries clear across the city at every special occasion for his favourite customer. Perhaps this was an automatic delivery? Maybe Shuichi had a standing order for this bouquet to be delivered every Valentine's Day…?

Eiri sighed and turned back down the hall toward his bedroom to attend to his clothing for the night, considering the flowers a little further. His lover had had the flowers delivered to this residence every Valentine's Day for the past two years, but never when Eiri was around, never before Shuichi could present it himself. It was also usually escorted by chocolates, crème caramel and one very delectable…

Argh. Not good to remember things like that. The blonde shook his head.

-

And now he was shaking it again at the memory.

He shifted in his very comfortable seat in the front left VIP wing of the Zepp Tokyo hall for Bad Luck's tour launch concert.

'BAD LUCK: Twelve Kisses tour' spelled the banners sealed with a rosebud caricature, the tour logo. This night's performance would be the first of the band's dozen concerts, each themed in romance. The raffle prizes and other promotional contests had everything to do with drawing the public eye to the musical trio as romantic figures.

There had been a highly-publicised NG dress-up photo shoot, depicting each band member dressed to a theme. They had posed as bad boys, biker hogs, geeky nerds, and, of course, sexy hunks… among other things.

Eiri, certain that it was his current greatest source of embarrassment, had a purchased a copy of the photo collection book.

The novelist glanced over at his sister and her husband as they posed for the photographers cordoned off to one side of the venue, before lifting his eyes to the stage off to his left. Shuichi would be standing right there very soon…

There was little to spend his attention on while he waited but watch the arriving guests, and he wished he had brought his laptop. He did not want to think about what was to come tonight, the shock of seeing Shuichi again and in concert, no less. There was no choice but to listen to the noise that filled the arena, of the crowds talking and squealing, excited for the show to begin. The venue was packed to capacity and the acoustics made the chatter resound about the place.

It was giving him a headache.

He massaged his right temple, left hand in his lap of elegantly crossed legs. There was a flash of light and his mind registered that his picture had been taken, thankful that at least his hand had been in the way. Damn long-range lens and flash. He slipped on a mask of indifference and schooled his features to display an air of polite boredom.

Tohma and Mika passed wordlessly by as they came to receive a troop of guests who had just arrived. The couple traded nods with Eiri as they passed, Mika smiling gently at him, obviously pleased he had made his appearance.

Eiri tuned their English conversation out until he heard i his /i name.

"Yes, his given name is a little tricky to pronounce," Tohma was saying. He tilted his head as he listened to his guest before he and his wife laughed lightly with genuine mirth, "No, I don't think it's a good idea to say it as 'shoe-itchy'… Perhaps you might prefer to address him by surname as Mattieu does?" Tohma smiled, nodding, "Yes, I had realised the dance remixes were garnering some attention… Thank you, I am pleased that you would consider having the group visit America…"

Eiri's jaw clenched as he turned to look at the group crowded about the NG president and his wife. His gaze paused on a tall blonde in a pristine cream coloured silk suit.

The man had slightly long pale blonde hair, of a similar length and cut to Eiri's own, and pale blue eyes. The man's carriage was rather elegant as was his dress sense, right down to the blue ruffled dress shirt. His slender features would have looked rather gangly but he was well built and moved with a grace that would not be missed. Already he could hear the chatter behind him from the public section.

"Who is that tall blonde? Is that tall blonde over there Yuki Eiri? … No, no, no, see that one seated ahead of us, i that's /i Yuki Eiri there… Oh, doesn't that tall blonde over there look just beautiful?"

"It is a shame you missed the album launch, but I can arrange for Shindou-san to meet you at the tour party later," Tohma was saying, snapping Eiri out of his daze. His irritation increased two fold: someone would be meeting with his Shuichi.

He groaned inwardly and sighed, remembering that Shuichi was no longer 'his'.

The event hall lights blinked, signalling the intention to begin the concert. Groups broke apart and went to find their seats, and in the public area behind Eiri, the loud chatter died down into a low excited thrum. As the semi-darkness finally descended, Tohma slid into the seat beside Eiri, Mika to her husband's other side.

"Tall, blonde and smokes," Tohma murmured, following Eiri's gaze. "Shindou-san, at the album launch party, glared at him in much the same way you are doing now."

The writer turned his icy gaze on the man next to him, who chuckled in an off handed manner.

"Do not worry, Eiri-san," Tohma settled himself into his seat and turned his gaze toward the stage as the crowd welcomed the MC, raising his voice to be heard above the din, "If it reassures you at all, Shindou-san was quite nice to him."

Eiri was intensely annoyed for a moment before suddenly realizing he would prefer that Shuichi were nice to his look-alike, than give him the cold shoulder just over the similarity. It gave him an absurd, small sense of hope.

He fixed his eyes on the MC who welcomed the night's opening act, some group named Jubilee, and ignored the last few people coming to take their seats in the VIP box. He started as he realised the MC had just mentioned that Shindou Shuichi of Bad Luck had written the new group's newest hit, 'Tomorrow' with which the group would open the night.

The crowds cheered, giving a rather more than usual warm reception to the opening band. The opening acoustic guitar was not to Eiri's liking, but the style of the break into pop beat sounded very familiar.

-

_And I want to believe you, when you tell me that it'll be okay  
Yeah, I try to believe you, but I don't…_

_When you say that it's going to be  
It always turns out to be a different way  
I try to believe you  
Not today, today, today, today, today..._

_I don't know how I feel  
Tomorrow, tomorrow  
I don't know what to say  
Tomorrow, tomorrow… Is a different day_

_It's always been up to you, It's turning around, It's up to me  
I'm going to do what I have to do  
Just don't…_

_Give me a little time, Leave me alone a little while  
Maybe it's not too late  
Not today, today, today, today, today..._

_I don't know how I feel   
Tomorrow, tomorrow  
I don't know what to say  
Tomorrow, tomorrow… Is a different day_

_And I know I'm not ready, Maybe tomorrow?_

_And I want to believe you, when you tell me that it'll be ok,  
Yeah, I try to believe you,  
Not today, today, today, today, today..._

_But tomorrow it may change…_ (2)

Eiri reeled at what he knew where Shuichi's heartfelt words. As a song writer, Shuichi had never failed to write his truest feelings and over the time since their break up, the words were all the more honest. He was suddenly struck with the idea that he would very likely go nuts trying to interpret this night… The crowd cheered their approval as the pretty little girl of a lead singer grinned at them all. She waved and gestured for everyone to calm down.

"We are 'Jubilee' and didn't you animals like our opening song, huh?!"

The audience responded excitedly.

The girl plucked at the bass guitar slung on her slight shoulder, "This next song is one of my favourites, never mind the angst of it, it's called 'Unwanted'…" The crowds drowned out her words with their enthusiasm. She waited for the noise levels to come back down, she and the band prolonging the song intro.

Eiri was rather certain he had heard this song before…

"Do you know who wrote this song?" She asked them, smiling happily.

Eiri's brows rose as the crowd began to chant the name of Bad Luck's lead singer. i That /i he had not known. The cries rose into deafening screams as the man in question unexpectedly stepped out from side stage, a guitar slung over his shoulder. His hands gripped the armrests of his seat as he leaned forward, eyes drinking in the sight of the handsome young man upon the stage. His breathe caught as he carefully watched his personal walking dream, who plugged in his instrument.

i Guitar/i He knew Shuichi played the keyboard and piano, but since when did he play the guitar and could he even play it well?

The band's energy changed, and the drummer brought his hands down harshly over his instruments. Eiri was shocked when Shuichi slammed his hand down harshly yet skilfully across the strings, and drew out the opening melody of the song.

-

_All that I did was walk over Start off by shaking your hands, that's how it went  
I had a smile on my face and I sat up straight  
Oh… yeah, yeah…_

_I wanted to know you, I wanted to show you  
_

Eiri started when Shuichi stepped forward to a second microphone and sang the chorus with the Jubilee lead singer. Shuichi's eyes closed, and his hands kept at his strumming while his voice melded smoothly with hers.

_You don't know me; don't ignore me  
You don't want me there, you just shut me out  
You don't know me, don't ignore me,  
If you had your way, you'd just shut me up  
And make me go away…_

_No, I just don't understand why you won't talk to me  
It hurts that I'm so unwanted for nothing  
Don't talk words against me_

_I wanted to know you, I wanted to show you_

_You don't know me; don't ignore me  
You don't want me there, you just shut me out  
You don't know me, don't ignore me,  
If you had your way, you'd just shut me up  
And make me go away…_

_Make me go away…_

_I tried to belong, it didn't seem wrong; my head aches  
Its been so long, I'll write this song if that's what it takes_

_You don't know me; don't ignore me  
You don't want me there, you just shut me out  
You don't know me, don't ignore me,  
If you had your way, you'd just shut me up  
And make me go away…_

_You make me go away… (3)_

The band and Shuichi were a powerful combination, the resonance of their energy echoing over and over again throughout the arena. Shuichi's compelling gaze was magnified by the gigantic screens mounted above the stage and throughout the venue. He had the entire audience bound, making music not just with his voice and the guitar, but with his entire being as though music and sound exploded from each pore. One could sense the intent from every nuance in his tense body, his voice's possession of each note and word conveying the feelings behind the music.

Eiri tore his gaze away from the beautiful sight on stage and turned to find Tohma carefully studying him. He could not hide the moisture in his eyes, nor the wrench of his heart reflected in them. He shook his head, not quite certain of very much at the moment, and leaned to rest his forehead in his left hand propped up by the elbow on the armrest.

Tohma took his other hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but how was Eiri supposed to stand the next two hours watching the man he loved speak of his emotions for the novelist sitting so stricken nearby? The writer could not help but be struck by the heart and soul, the intense emotions, behind each word.

It echoed down into his being and he was overcome with the heartache of it all, the salty wetness sliding silently down his pale cheeks.

-

-

-

By the time Ryuichi made his guest appearance for their closing song to sing Shining Collection, he was certain nothing could help him.

He was emotionally battered black and blue, seeing and hearing Shuichi sing the songs of the new album. It had been different listening to the music alone off a CD, he hadn't had to see the expression on Shuichi's face as he sang them. He hadn't had to feel the words as sung from the man who felt them.

He didn't think he could take much more of this, and it was now time for Shining Collection.

Never mind that it was he, Eiri, who had written this song, written it for Shuichi. Never mind that it had always calmed him in the past, hearing the pink haired vocalist singing it. No, it was a further slap to his face to hear it without Shuichi's voice caressing each word. The passion the singer had had in the past for this song was no longer there, and without that passion, the words were as good as meaningless. The music vibrated richly, the heart in the song alive but while Shuichi belted it out with feeling, he did so without love.

Eiri felt as though he had just walked out of a therapy session. As the song progressed, the steadily increasing ache in his chest suddenly peaked. He clutched at it, drawing concerned glances from his sister and from Tohma. There was a choking lump in his throat that he could not swallow down.

As the performance ended, and everyone trooped off stage, Eiri felt his body unclench but a little. He had been sitting defensively, legs and arms crossed, tension strong in his posture. The assault was finally over.

That is, until the audience demanded an encore. He sighed, steeling himself to bear one last song, whatever it would be.

He had not expected Shuichi to return by himself, guitar again slung over his shoulder and chest, bearing a red rose. He watched the singer approach the microphone and, waving to the cheering audience, held the flower up for all to see. The monstrosity of a screen mounted above the stage showed an angled close-up view of the singer, who looked clearly mischievous.

"To all of you watching at home, who have tickets to the tour," Shuichi was grinning madly, "I have a surprise for you that I am sure you will love." He looked quite pleased with himself indeed, as he gestured with the flower in his hand.

Eiri watched behind hooded eyes.

"Before each concert, at the opening press conference, we will announce a raffle winner," Shuichi cleared his obviously tired throat carefully. "Every ticket purchase is a chance to win, so you don't have to do anything. The winner will be selected randomly and that lucky person will be called up here on stage…"

He got no further as the noise level drowned out his words. There was noise of disappointment for a lack of a winner that evening and even simple blind excitement at the mere idea of being on stage with the band. Shuichi had to wait for them to calm.

"The winner will be called up on stage where the band members will each present a rose, and sing our closing song for him or her."

Eiri did not like that idea at all.

Upon the stage, the performer waved a hand to gesture generally behind himself at the rest of the stage. "There will also be a goodie bag which will including a copy of our new album, i Semblance of Self /i , which we will autograph here on stage for that lucky someone." Shuichi maintained his smile, keeping everyone on tenterhooks. "Unfortunately, Tokyo will have to stew and wait until our closing concert for its winner." The audience groaned in unison, the underlying tension and excitement still evident. "So for tonight…"

_That_ got the crowd's attention.

"For tonight, I would like to invite someone special to me on stage."

Eiri froze.

"This person has been wonderful to me. Has helped me stay sane and remember my roots in spite all of the madness," he smiled a little sadly. "And most of all, made me face the world when I felt like giving up."

Shuichi, holding out the rose, turned to face the VIP section.

Their eyes met.

Eiri watched Shuichi stiffen in shock along with him, in unison.

That expression in the singer's eyes cleared away any ideas that it might have been he, Eiri, who would be invited on stage. It was obvious that the younger man had had no idea that he was here. They stared at each other in stunned silence, and Eiri quite forgot where he was as he drowned in that lavender gaze.

It took the spotlight sweeping over and stopping somewhere to Eiri's right, and a free-running camera man cutting between their line of sight to bring Shuichi out of his stare. The audience noise rose to a deafening volume, jolting them both further and finally completely out of their shared trance.

Eiri saw, behind Shuichi, the giant screen showing Mika's embarrassed face, Tohma just barely in the frame. The free-running camera man had come up close and personal to capture her reaction. This was all pre-planned, so the crew had homed in on their target, not realising he was there. He was thankful for that and turned to watch as Tohma escorted his wife to the foot of the stage side staircase and hand her up to Hiroshi, cameras flashing madly. The guitarist had materialised from off stage and, his own guitar in sling, brought her to Shuichi's side at centre stage.

The two performers fussed a little over their guest, settling her into a stool between them. They plugged in their matching acoustic guitars, and turned back to the microphones.

"Everyone, this is Seguchi Mika," Shuichi's smile was restored when the crowd cheered loudly at the introduction.

Mika smiled at the warm reception. They knew who she was.

Nodding to each other, watching the other carefully, the two best friends strummed in harmony. Shuichi's voice came out clear and powerful without the blaring beats and synthesisers to pollute it, dancing over the words to Anti-Nostalgic:

_Toumei ga yozora somete hitori aruku itsumo no kaerimichi_

_Kuchizusamu konna kimochi nemuru kimi ni todoketai na... oh hmmm...  
_

(Transparency dyes the night sky and I walk alone on this home ward bound road

I sing to myself, wishing to send these feelings to you as you sleep, oh hmmm...)

Hiro leaned in to sing with Shuichi, his low and rough voice providing the perfect contrast.

_Nani ka ni obieteru jibun ga chotto iya ni naru tsugeru omoi torinokoshita hibi ni..._

_doko ka ni wasureteru kokoro ga chotto itakunaru, toki wo tsunagu hoshi no yoru ni kimi wo sagashiteru  
_

(I'm tangled up in something now

I'm getting a little sick of myself, bound by these feelings I still carry from my past...

My neglected heart is starting to hurt a little, and I keep searching for you beneath the starlight of that night)

_Toozakaru kumo ni nosete boku no kimochi tachidomaru kaerimichi_

_Kimi wa mou yume no tsuzuki todoku hazu mo nai koto da to wakatteiru  
_

(I pause on this path I walk and place my feelings upon the receding clouds

You are already a part of my continuing dreams though I know that these (feelings) can't possibly reach you now)

Hiro and Shuichi's eyes met as they sang, the heat in their gazes mirroring the other. Their shared passion for music brought out their love for each other, that special bond that the two friends shared.

Watching this, Eiri felt like all the breath had been forced out of him. A supportive hand closed on his once more, Tohma, he supposed. It was not enough.

_Namida ga koboreteru egao ga chotto hoshikunaru kimi no soba ni ireru dake de boku wa..._

_Dare ka ga toikakeru rikutsu ga motto hoshikunaru kieru kage ni mabushisugita hibi wo utsushiteru  
_

(The tears keep falling… Just by being able to be close to you, I'm starting to want to smile, just a little...

Someone asks questions, and I'm starting to want this (relationship) to make more sense,

Of how you cast those too-brilliant days into a fading shadow)

_Nani ka ni obieteru jibun ga chotto iya ni naru tsugeru omoi torinokoshita hibi ni..._

_Doko ka ni wasureteru kokoro ga chotto itakunaru toki wo tsunagu hoshi no yoru ni kimi wo sagashiteru… (3)_

(I'm tangled up in something now

I'm getting a little sick of myself, bound by these feelings I still carry from my past...

My neglected heart is starting to hurt a little, and I keep searching for you beneath the starlight of that night…)

-

The noise of the crowd drowned out the closing chords, all eyes trained on the venue screens. Shuichi opened eyes he had closed for the heart felt closing lyrics of the song, a smile spreading its way across his happy face. He spoke again once the cheering had died down a bit, "As some of you may know, Hiro is my best friend."

Who _didn't_ know?

"He has been the closest thing to family I have had since we moved out here to Tokyo to pursue our music career with NG… and he is my very best friend in the world." He looked lovingly over at his auburn haired friend, who returned the soft smile. The cameras captured every moment of the exchange, posting it all on the screens.

The crowd voiced their appreciation.

Shuichi turned back to the microphone. "And here sits Mika-san who has been just amazing to me, whose help and friendship I greatly appreciate, who has seen me through so much these last two and a half years. Thank you to you both for… everything." He smiled at the two beside him with an expression so honestly thankful and loving that Eiri looked away.

The audience loved it and made their love known. They were drawn into that little space between the trio upon the stage, the emotion real and enthralling, broadcast for each person to see by the efficient camera men.

But while these ticket buyers could not tear their eyes away from the sight before them, for Eiri it was too painful to see. That adoring expression was much too achingly familiar and he remembered how it felt to be its recipient.

Ignoring how his hands shook, he got up and left.

-

-

-

(1) "Tomorrow" by Avril Lavigne

(2) "Unwanted" by Avril Lavigne

(3) "Anti-Nostalgic" as performed by Kotani Kinya

-

-

-

Review or comment, please!


	9. Loss of Hope

CHAPTER 9 

Loss of Hope

-

-

-

"I gotta go, boys!" K waved as he headed for the door. "I have some people to traumatize before we go! Meet you all later, you know where." He absentmindedly caressed his holstered gun as he ducked out the door, blond ponytail bobbing in his wake.

"Me and Kuma-chan, too," Ryuichi said, almost gaily. "We're going to find Noriko-chan." Ryu skipped to the dressing room door where he paused before saying, "Oh, and Kumagurou thinks you should know one more thing." He turned back a little and, with that eerie ability, transformed into an intensely focused adult. "Yuki-san was frightened. He was concerned… and _very_ frightened… for our Shu-chan." He blinked slowly, and his eyes went round as he smiled, wide and sweet. "Just thought you should know no-da… Bye-bye!"

With a wave, he was gone.

Nakano Hiroshi and Fujisaki Suguru stared at each other in stunned silence. What the hell had just happened?

"Since when does K meet with Yuki Eiri in a deserted park?" Hiro broke the silence at last. "And at Yuki-san's request?"

"More to the point, since when does _Ryuichi_?" Suguru answered, sounding equally stunned.

"And Ryu… you heard what he said."

"That does _not_ sound like the Yuki-san we know."

According to K, The exchange with Yuki-san had been relatively simple. Nothing much had actually been accomplished, as K had not had the patience to stick around and find out what it was that Yuki-san had wanted to ask. They had had their words and, as far as K was concerned, anything beyond that was none of his concern.

"I bet it's because he felt guilty," Hiro declared, "But I never thought…K didn't realize the significance of that day, but I should have… it was the day after Yuki-san's birthday…" he groaned, putting his face in his hands. "I should have remembered, Shuichi has always talked about the occasion anytime it was near since that quiz show (1)!"

Fujisaki's features rearranged themselves into a scowl. "It's not like we are supposed to remember such inane details, Nakano-san," He turned to direct his glare elsewhere. "Even if we do want to look out for him," With a sigh, he stood.

Hiro continued to sit hunched over, face cradled in his hands, wondering what in hell the author was up to this time. He was frightened, truth be told, for his best friend. A hand touched his shoulder lightly, squeezed hesitantly. He glanced up and met Fujisaki's uncertain gaze. He knew his band mate was not accustomed to such gestures despite how close they had become, and he offered up a reassuring smile.

"We just need to look out for him, whatever day it is, all the time." Fujisaki turned to head back to his own dressing room to prepare for the concert after-party. As he went, he called back over his shoulder, "If we tried to remember everything, we would only be stressed out and become worse than he is."

Hiro groaned again before lifting his head. He pushed thoughts of Yuki-san from his mind and remembered the event he needed to attend. He felt sticky and tired. He wanted nothing more than to go home and crash out, but there were sponsors to please and a best friend to support. He preferred that Shuichi go to and fro by himself as little as possible, never mind the boy had a bodyguard come chauffeur bustling him about.

As he made his way into his en suite bathroom, he grabbed his clothes already assembled on a suit hanger to bring in with him. There, he stripped and attended to himself, thinking about a certain pink-haired moppet dear to his heart.

That young man was certainly up to God knows what these days. He and the two Seguchis had become nearly inseparable. Hiro knew that Seguchi-san himself had requested Shuichi's help with a few new bands the NG label was supporting. Shuichi had mentioned something about helping to decide the amount of support to offer sponsored bands… and in the decision making of whether or not to sign them onto the label permanently as part of the 'family'. Musically, Shuichi had always had a good ear, and this knack for knowing what would be good was obviously being put to good use.

Hiro, however, was aware that no matter what anyone tried to do or did for Shuichi, it would not distract him from or alleviate the pain of his break up. He could see how Shuichi was still cracked. There were lines of tension about his best friend's lips that he had never seen before and which bothered him greatly. If that wasn't bad enough, Shuichi had made it a habit to be out of the house early every morning and return late at night. Shuichi would meet them at NG for practice during the day and had so far kept to all the band's tour commitments, but otherwise he disappeared for the rest of the day.

He gave his best friend what the boy asked for when Shuichi refused to talk about what he was doing with his time, pleading for space and for time. But he remained worried, despite Shuichi's attempts to reassure him. He felt better when Shuichi called as he went about his day, or sent text messages, but it was obvious the singer had very busy days.

Hiro left the boy to it; Shu seemed to really need the space. Although, it was just too obvious that the kid was working himself into exhaustion so his mind would be occupied and drawn away from introvert musings, enough to actually find sleep at night…

He had seen it, had watched Shuichi do this, and had even experienced it himself all before.

No matter what the little fool did, it could not be missed, not by his eyes, that Shuichi still looked pretty much how he had after that split with Yuki-san: melancholy, stiff and weary. The only thing that had changed was that he was hiding it better, and people were misled into thinking that everything was well. Even K, normally one very astute individual, was fooled.

Hiro knew better.

And, thankfully, so did Fujisaki.

He finished his shower, dried down and dressed, paying special attention to his appearance. Tonight was a formal party for top sponsors, and it was imperative that he make a good impression. He supposed this was one of those times that his upper middle class breeding would be of good use.

Primed for this social encore, Hiro met with Fujisaki in the hallway, who told him Shuichi had just left to go find K and would meet them out front. Avoiding the milling crowd lucky to have access to the restricted area of the rear lobby, they proceeded to the dimly lit glass-walled mezzanine floor. From this pre-arranged meeting point they had a secluded view of the driveway, away from fans and media crews.

There, the two stewed in their thoughts as they waited.

"That man has something very wrong with him," muttered Fujisaki suddenly, brows furrowed and glaring at the floor.

Hiro immediately knew who the younger boy was talking about. "Actually, he does."

Fujisaki looked up, quizzical expression in place.

"I don't know what it is." Fujisaki glared as Hiro spoke. "But I do know that he has something from his youth that he has been dealing with." He shrugged. "Shuichi told me. But I don't think that, whatever it is, it could possibly justify what he has done."

Fujisaki scoffed, nodding in agreement, reaching up with a hand to ruffle his green-tinted black hair.

A naughty grin swept across Hiro's face, having noticed the emerald earring glinting in his band mate's left ear. He leaned in toward the boy beside him, whispering, "You know, Yuki-san has a piercing in his left ear, too…"

The younger man blasted the guitarist a stare of pure ice before turning away in a huff, folding his arms and thrusting his chin into the air. A small smile played on the Hiro's lips. Better they banter now and bring about a better mood than Shuichi see nothing but worry for him when they arrived at the party.

"Hey! Where's Shuichi?!" An authoritative, female voice demanded. They turned, recognising Noriko's tones.

Hiro pointed out the glass front as Noriko and Ryuichi approached across the deserted mezzanine. "We're waiting for him, Sakano, and K to meet us out front with the van," He smiled, "Do you need him for anything?"

"Just wondering, is all, since he is not with you right now," Noriko tossed her violet pigtails over her bare shoulders. She looked stunning in a deep magenta off-shoulder velvet gown. "I wanted to congratulate him on his outstanding performance." She waved at the two before her dismissively, "You two weren't too bad either."

Fujisaki set his jaw, turning his back to sulk a little more.

Hiro smirked behind his band mate's back. "Do you have your own transportation to the after concert ball?" he asked politely, directing his question to Ryuichi.

Ryuichi squealed, "Nittle Grasper has a big black limousine, no-da!" He snuggled his cheek into the pink plush toy in his arms, eyes glazing over in a day-dream, "But maybe we should have a bright red one to match us, coz Tohma is dressed for love too, no-da no-da!"

'Dressed for love…' That was one way of putting it, Hiro thought, hiding a grin. Ryuichi was dressed in a pale pink button-down shirt tucked into black leather trousers, black and red leather cowboy boots and a silver and crimson cowboy hat dangling down his back completed his Valentine's Day look.

"The black will do fine!" Noriko rolled her eyes then grabbed her singer's arm and hauled him away towards the elevator. "We're meeting Tohma down in the basement where the limo is parked. See you at the party!"

-

-

-

Noriko hauled her brilliant idiot of a band mate into the elevator and punched the button for the first floor garage level. The doors closed, cutting them off from the two other musicians, and as one they leaned onto the railing of the carrier. They stood together in silence until they stepped off and sedately made their way toward the limousine parked to one side.

Noriko studied the tense lines in her band mate's posture. She had watched him observe Bad Luck's lead singer all throughout the concert, and had noticed how he had performed more provocatively than usual with the younger man. Ryuichi's out of character attention to Shuichi had been bothering her for some time now, and it had been he who had suggested looking for Shuichi earlier before the encounter with the two at the Mezzanine level.

Bluntly, she asked softly, "Are you in love with Shuichi?" She turned to regard a solemn Ryuichi as they walked, his pink bunny tucked under an arm, hand in his pocket. His blue eyes glittered enigmatically as he stared across the sparsely populated parking level.

"I care for him," he muttered softly and, eyes trained on the object of interest across the way, pulled out his mobile phone and hit a speed dial button.

Noriko sighed before offering a small smile to the silent chauffeur who opened the limo door for her, "He is a good kid," she agreed as she settled in, "One very interesting individual, we both know that-"

"He shines so brightly, Noriko, so brilliantly that I am blinded," He interrupted her with a low voice, putting the phone to his ear, eyes still focused on his target as he stood before the car entryway. "Anything less and I would not be bothered, but that light is special… it must never go out." He got into the car, finally tearing his eyes away from whatever it was he'd been staring at. He turned to Noriko, eyes hard, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

His attention was drawn away by the person answering his call, and he left Noriko to her thoughts.

-

-

-

Eiri fiddled with his keys and fob in his pocket, smoking, as he leaned on his handsome black Mercedes.

He stared out across the parking lot, not seeing the people making their way to their vehicles. His eyes were still filled with the vision of seeing Shuichi on stage, the gestures of that lithe body as he danced, and the sadness in those lavender eyes. He gritted his teeth, chomping down on the stick in his mouth. He was, he knew, the picture of nonchalance, leaning with his ankles crossed before him, a hand in his pocket; but inside, he was anything but.

It had been difficult, to say the least, to see the one he loved so near yet so beyond his reach. He had thought himself ready to face the sight of Shuichi, but it had proved to be a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

"Eiri-kun?"

He groaned inwardly, eyes refocusing on the sight before him. "Hello, Tohma."

"We were worried you had left," Tohma approached carefully, aware of the tension in the man before him. "You were spotted and I was notified of your whereabouts."

The novelist looked away. Tohma came to stand beside the silent author, politely looking elsewhere while the other man composed himself.

"I don't think I can do this," Eiri muttered, tossing his cigarette down onto the ground and grinding it out with his heel.

"Why not?"

"You know why," He lit another cigarette, glancing down at the picture on the lighter as he stood. "Meeting him now wouldn't solve anything… this is impossible." He turned to Tohma, eyes flat. "Didn't you see him? He had everyone in the palm of his hand."

Tohma sighed, "You most of all."

Eiri frowned.

Tohma continued, intuitively, "If you are worried about the adoring crowds, about the people who flock to him, don't." He reached out and lightly laid his hand on Eiri's arm, "Shuichi's no fool. He sees right through them. Surely, you don't think that he is unaware that they are all merely attracted to his fame?"

Some distance away, not within their immediate peripheral vision but at the borders of ear shot, the elevator doors opened.

-

"And you're just ever the optimist!" A familiar voice snarled. "One is all it takes, one who sees beyond the fame to­-- could be enough to--"

The voice broke off in a frustrated-sounding snort.

In the elevator, K glanced down at Shuichi who had instantly stopped frozen at the sound of that easily recognizable voice.

The gunman only just caught the expression of pain that flitted past after the shock. He met the now calmly shuttered purple gaze and nodded, stepped free of the elevator alone leaving the singer where he was, and let the doors closed between them.

K waited until he heard the elevator depart.

He frowned. He had thought that things were better with Shuichi since the incident in the NG front hall. However, seeing that expression jolted him and the sight of such acute pain was much too reminiscent of the initial post-break up state the singer had been in. Torn, he shifted, thinking.

Considering what he'd just witnessed he recalled Hiro's story about Shuichi's Christmas vacation (3) and, weighing them carefully against his own opinions, he came to a decision. He pulled out his mobile phone and quickly typed out a text message, before marching over toward the two conversing blondes.

"Well, well," K snarled on a low voice as he approached, aware of departing crowds in the vicinity. "Look at what the Mercedes dragged in and here I thought they only sold cars to humans."

Tohma's eyes flashed blue fire at him. It was a sure sign he was annoyed when his eye colour leaned toward blue rather than green, though his voice remained smooth and polite, regardless, "I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing my brother in law, Mr K."

Eiri, on the other hand, completely ignored him.

"I came to fetch the car and will be meeting the group up front," He pointedly met Tohma's gaze as he spoke. "The four of us will proceed to the hotel directly from here." There was but the slightest stress on the word 'four'. To make the message perfectly clear he added, "So the rest is in your hands now."

The fiery blue eyes calmed into an aquamarine, contemplative colour. The change itself was signal enough that the 'message' had been received.

Blasting the novelist a contemptuous glare K headed for the Bad Luck van, certain the situation was still manageable.

Tohma faced Eiri with a serene expression, "Let me take you to a private room at the party, Eiri-san," The novelist eyed him warily, but the NG president gestured placatingly as he continued, "You can be hidden but enjoy a good meal. And _he_ will be nearby in case you change your mind. You can watch without being seen, observe how he is and… how things are."

There was a long pause in which Tohma worried that things would not progress as he had hoped this evening. Eventually, just as K blasted by, Eiri wordlessly unlocked the car with his remote key fob as he walked around to the driver's side.

Tohma smiled, genuinely pleased. He was careful to tone his expression down before getting into the car.

-

-

-

Hiro glanced idly over at the sound of the elevator chime, and tensed when he recognized the slight, pink-topped figure within.

Shuichi, with a little shiver, stepped out and slowly headed toward them. A flash of stunned purple eyes warned Hiro that all was not well, but the look disappeared in the next instant, as though it had never been there. He squelched the powerful urge to ask what was bothering Shuichi, reminding himself he had been asked for space.

Focus.

Resist the urge.

He sighed. This didn't mean he couldn't do _something_ nice.

"Hey, Shu!" He held an arm open to his best friend. "I thought you were with K."

"I was, but…" Shuichi paused infinitesimally then snuggled into Hiro's side. "He went on ahead without me."

Hiro recognised the half truth for what it was. After all, his best friend couldn't lie worth jack to him. But he tolerated the masquerade Shuichi seemed to need to play, the half-truth habits and the dismissive laughs when attributing 'mistakes' to alleged stupidity.

Fujisaki eyed Shuichi strangely a moment, as though no more fooled than Hiro had been, then turned away again. Hiro felt Shuichi shift in his arms, glanced down and caught the boy's worried look following Fujisaki's retreat.

Shuichi, being the loving brat he was, and likely feeling guilty for his little vague truth, reached out and gently tugged on Fujisaki's sleeve. When the other boy turned back around, Shu smiled appreciatively and announced, "You were great out on stage this evening, Fujisaki-kun." That clear, sincere expression shifted up to Hiro. "You both were really amazing, so in-sync… and that perfectly timed pause before the last stanza of _Breaking Away_ was so well done!"

Fujisaki turned a delightful shade of pink at their lead singer's warm words. Shuichi did pay the nicest compliments, on those occasions when he was inclined to voice his appreciation. No matter how simply said, they were always spoken with such sincerity that the impact was greater than flowery words.

Smiling, Fujisaki reached over and rumpled the boy's pink hair, all trace of his earlier temper evaporating. "You weren't too bad yourself…" His smile widened, and he flicked a finger at the outrageous hat on the singer's head. "…Shuichi."

Hiro grinned at Fujisaki, pleased with Fujisaki's use of a more familiar address, before turning back to his best friend still comfortably snuggled into his side. "You were pretty impressive, too, Shu," He pressed an affectionate kiss to Shuichi's forehead. "You lit up that stage."

Cheeks turning nearly as pink as his hair, Shuichi buried his face into Hiro's side, his giggle rising from the depths of Hiro's suit, clearly pleased with the compliments. Hiro exchanged a delighted grin with Fujisaki, knowing the synth-master found the familiarly child-like display as reassuring as Hiro did. It affirmed that things were overall well for their singer.

In spite of whatever had caused him to space out in the elevator.

Impulsively, Hiro reached out and drew the Fujisaki close to himself as well. Blushing furiously, but not resisting, Fujisaki companionably slung an arm behind Hiro's back while Shuichi caught the other.

"Group hug!" squealed the brat, and the other two groaned in mock despair from within the tightening circumference of his arms.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Without breaking apart and with huge smiles on their faces, the trio glanced over toward the source of the wry voice.

"Mika!" yelled Shuichi, wriggling free of the tangle of arms.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he flung himself across the marble floor toward the stunning woman in a red silk gown. Accustomed to similar antics from one of her husband's closest friends, Mika smartly sidestepped the advance. She looked over her shoulder at the skidding singer whose momentum had propelled him a few metres past her. He finally came to a stop facing the elevator from which she had just alighted. Standing straight and still, he tilted his chin back over his shoulder at a high angle, lips in a mou of an endearing little pout.

"Mika…" He whined cutely, eyes shimmering with adorable wetness. She crossed her arms elegantly, and attempted a scornful glare.

"Point that disgusting cuteness elsewhere, Chibi-boy. I'm immune." But the sweetness that exuded from this boy was utterly irresistible…Her brother was such an idiot. With a sigh, Mika admitted defeat and held out a hand which the pink moppet eagerly seized with a delighted squeal. "And to think you're one of my favourite escorts…" She smiled gently down at him, noting how his smile was just not quite up to what it once had been.

"Not tonight, Mika," he teased, grinning up at her, his free hand slipping into a pocket of his suit, his entire body dropping into an easy pose. "Seguchi-san is here!"

"Actually," she said, rumpling his hair and upsetting his hat, "Tohma had to go on ahead." When Shuichi pulled away a moment to pout and adjust the hat, she paused to take in their attire. Like her, they'd all dressed in tones of Valentine's Day colours.

Shuichi's stylish black coat-tailed suit was made delightfully outrageous by the ruffled 20th century style shirt in pale pink that accentuated his hair colour. His amethyst dragonfly brooch, a Christmas present from Tohma, twinkled from his cravat. The confection of a top-hat, at a jaunty angle, was the perfect finish.

Hiro and Fujisaki sported black suits as well, though of a more modern cut. Hiro wore a deep red button down shirt without a tie, the colour matching his dark unbound hair, and the small red rose pinned to a lapel was the perfect shade to make that mahogany-colour glow. Fujisaki had on a button down shirt as well, but in white and with a rich red tie splashed with white hearts.

"Handsome," she said approvingly with a nod, and watched their cheeks take on another Valentine's Day shade.

Rare were the compliments from Seguchi Mika, they knew, but were sincere when given. Just as sincere as their collective blush, which epitomized the true miracle of the trio; no matter how big Bad Luck became, they each seemed to maintain an utterly captivating modesty. It was, in her now rather extensive experience, a very unusual personality trait. For all three to share it should have been impossible. She glanced down at her young friend wondering, and not for the first time, if he was responsible for setting the standard. That maybe, as they had in so much else, Hiro and Fujisaki had simply followed his lead..?

"So, speaking of escorts," she said with a touch of imperiousness, lifting a brow at Shuichi. "I'm actually in need of one. Do you suppose you're up to the job?"

Shuichi bowed with an exaggerated flourish, grinning impishly up at her through his shaggy pink bangs. "Anytime you ask, Your Majesty!" He flashed his band mates a belated apology. "That is, if you guys don't mind…?"

"As if I need to answer to two little boys…" Mika muttered though the two nodded assent. She swept the singer toward the elevator which had just opened to deposit a handkerchief-twisting Sakano at their feet.

"Seguchi-san!" Sputtered the high-strung producer, wide eyed, "Where are you taking Shindou-san?"

Mika ignored him. You'd think she was kidnapping his singer, what with the expression of panic beginning to shape his face.

"_I_ am escorting Mika-san to the party, Sakano-san," her diminutive escort assured the distraught man. Mika tugged Shuichi past him and into the carrier with every intention of leaving them all behind.

"But---but---" The nervous man blubbered, pointing down to the covered driveway visible through the wall of glass, where the Bad Luck van was just pulling up, "We're ready to leave too!" He continued to fidget and shift his weight, as though not certain what to do next.

Mika calmly pressed the hold button with her free hand. "So hurry and get in!" she snapped at the nervous man who nearly ripped his handkerchief in half at the tone of her voice.

Shuichi smiled for the flashing cameras and nodded thanks to the gushing people as they bustled through the lobby, thankful for Mika's elegant presence at his side. No one dared to jostle Seguchi Mika.

Mr K said nothing, waving him along, when Shuichi walked past the Bad Luck Limo toward Mika's waiting Ferrari Modena (2). Slipping into the passenger side, buckling himself in, he smiled out the window at the chasing paparazzi as they sped away. He sat back, eyes closed, listening to the reverberating hum of the powerful engine…and found another melody piecing itself together in his mind.

"How have you been, Shuichi?"

He opened his eyes. They were at the driveway exit, awaiting an opening in the traffic, and she flashed him a friendly glance. He put on that flat mask of a smile he'd learned from Tohma, and replied politely, if half jokingly, "Surviving, Mika-chan!"

Mika smiled a little, acknowledging the nick name, but the brightness of the smile was dimmed by the implications behind his answer. "Good to hear that."

She shifted gears, heading out into the city traffic. "Tohma tells me your album sales figures are outrageous," She up-shifted sharply, blasting past a little suburban sub-compact. "He mentioned how impressed he was with the song selection you provided for the album… Congratulations."

"Thank you, Mika-chan!"

She smiled a little more at his enthusiasm. "What about the… rest of the compositions?" Mika gestured vaguely with a wave of her hand. "Tohma said you had enough for three albums, he was rather impressed. The choosing must have been a nightmare."

"Not really." He laughed, then explained, "Hiro, Fujisaki-kun and I write and compose songs all the time, not just when we want to make an album. The songs are mostly raw material until we sit down sometime and decide to put a CD together." He smiled excitedly. "Sakano-san and maybe even Seguchi-san pick out a line-up from a preliminary collection, and then we re-arrange some of the songs to create a 'sound' for an album. But there are always songs that get tossed out… the 'rejects'."

He frowned a little, considering what he had just said. "Some were never even considered for this album, actually, the ones that are too personal…" His voice failed. He hoped she wouldn't notice, but knowing Miki, very little escaped her, that might involve her brother. He inhaled and determinedly finished: "but the rest can be saved for a later album if not performed one-off as we go through the tour..?" He wiggled excitedly in his seat, his smile returning as a thought occurred to him. "Maybe we can perform one new song at each location? Gotta mention that one to K-san!"

Mika's smile shone in the street lights lancing through the windows. "You're really excited about this tour, aren't you, Shu-chan?"

"You bet! I can't wait to get on the road!" Mika's smile encouraged him, and he found himself chattering on about the production and the music as she drove. Eventually, he wound down and a comfortable silence descended.

Almost hesitantly, as though conscious of the time limit as they approached their destination, she asked gently, "Is it wise to keep writing about him?"

Shuichi's smile slid off his face, but he retained his friendly air. He had simply let go of the pretence. "Maybe not, but my therapist thinks it's good to spend my emotions," He stared out at the passing people and lights. "Let them come out rather than bottle them up, you know?"

"I would never have considered you one to bottle!" She teased, with a sideways glance and a one-fingered poke at his side, making him giggle.

"Hey!" He bubbled back, past the giggles, "people can change!"

She sobered a little at that, as she pulled up in the hotel driveway. "You have changed, actually…" They disembarked from the car, doors held open by the waiting valets. Mika came around to his side and slipped her hand into his arm. She told him, "I…sometimes I miss the punk who used to annoy me so much."

_The same punk who had stolen her brothers' heart…_ He shook his head, refusing to give in to thoughts of a certain novelist. He needed to focus. He had work to do and that direction of thought would not bode well for his peace of mind.

He flashed Mika a small, determined smile. "I've still got the 'punk' in me!" he teased. "You watch it or I'll sic myself on you! Can't have you getting complacent, now can I?"

She rumpled his hair affectionately amidst the welcome of flashing camera lights.

-

-

-

"I think it's enough that you got me to this function at all," Eiri growled menacingly, "Can't we drop this topic?"

"No." Tohma stated flatly, smiling sweetly by contrast. "Kindly pull yourself together, so we can head out and look for him." At the mention of going out to 'look for him', Eiri stiffened. Tohma had to look away from the naked emotion in the novelist's golden eyes.

The two sat in a secluded meeting-dining room to one side of the hotel grand ballroom. These smaller meeting rooms lined a wall of the grand hall where, at this moment, hundreds of NG employees and special guests celebrated the launch of Bad Luck's tour. In here, the chatter, music and general din was at least marginally muffled. It was here that they planned to speak to Shuichi about Tohma's idea and see how the boy would take it. Shuichi would not have to know that the 'idea' was already in full effect, would not have to know that this was Tohma's way of giving them the chance to work things out in their relationship.

Eiri wasn't as positive about the situation now, however.

The writer sighed, attempting to force his body to relax and took a tense breathe off his cigarette, silently grateful for the smoking room. He considered how earlier, Shuichi had had millions of people worshipping him out on that stage. How out there, in that throng of people, Shuichi might be having a good time… without him. That brat would be smiling and excited, cleverly holding discussions with a diverse range of people from techs to executives.

Without him.

Maybe meeting someone who could replace him.

Tohma smoothed a wrinkle on his glove, and then tentatively asked, "What do you want tonight, Eiri-san?" He gazed kindly upon the younger man, this one who was dear to him.

Eiri studied the stick in his hand. "More than I can ask for… maybe more than I can ask of myself." His jaw tightened; he was well aware of what he was saying, what opportunity he would be passing by.

Tohma's brow drew together ever so slightly, his eyes flicking a glance at the closed door.

_Gods, Tohma_, he thought, _what are you up to this time…_

_-_

_-_

_- _

"It's a smoking room, if you don't mind," The usherette mentioned, smiling as she gestured to the room they approached.

"Thank you, that is fine." Shuichi assured politely as he and Mika followed through the crowds of the Twelve Kisses party, which was nothing short of an extravaganza. As they trekked across the ballroom to the private rooms that branched off from one side of the hall, Shuichi glanced a little sadly up at the lovely woman beside him. She caught the expression, holding his gaze, and tilted a brow in a silent query.

"I can smell the tobacco." He said simply, pasting on another brilliant smile as he waved to a passing group of NG producers.

"It reminds you of him?"

"Always," he murmured, maintaining his 'happy' expression.

"K smokes," She quirked her brow a bit further, playfully, "And so does Hiro…"

Shuichi laughed.

-

From within the confined of the room, Eiri heard a distinctive musical laugh.

His mind flooded with awareness, with the knowledge that Shuichi was nearby. Trying to calm his rising alarm, he turned his sharp gaze on Tohma who slid a reassuring hand over his in support. He dimly registered the calm expression on the older man's face, the situation dawning on him in a rush. His breath quickened.

"You can do this, Eiri-san."

He glared disbelievingly at the other man as he realised what Tohma had planned. Scowling, he made to rise but Tohma's firm grasp kept him from standing fully upright. He silently, ferociously, glared at his _former_ friend.

"Try."

Suddenly, and without further warning, the door swung open. Eiri's eyes snapped up, watching Shuichi walk in with Mika on his arm smiling up at her. His senses instantly reacted, ears attuned to the sound of Shuichi's voice, skin tingling with the awareness of their proximity. His mind focused on this one person, and his body responded to the call of Shuichi's nearness. His eyes took in the outrageous ensemble, appreciating the style, and he felt the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of his lips. The boy looked quite handsome…

As the door shut behind them and Mika looked up, Shuichi turned to take in the rest of the room. For the second time that evening, startled amethyst eyes met Eiri's.

They stared.

The pregnant silence thickened with tension, no one quite knowing what to do next.

In a daze, Shuichi allowed Mika to gently guide him forward toward the table. She pulled out a chair for him and her hands kindly pushed him into the seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown, probably from feeling him tremble. Her gaze flew to her husband's, who himself was just tearing his eyes away from Eiri. The husband and wife glanced but briefly at each other before Tohma gave Eiri's hand one last reassuring squeeze and released it to stand.

Mika lightly rubbed Shuichi's shoulders and bent over as she whispered into his ear, "For all the those songs that no one will ever hear, for the music in your heart that is too painful to let loose," her grip tightened a moment, "Listen… then let him hear." She took her husband's arm and departed with him

When the room was left to them, Eiri attempted to bring his senses under control.

The first thing he did was to carefully slip on an expression of cool calm, as he always wore. Then he struggled to push the scent of Shuichi's walnut bark cologne away, tried not to look at the graceful hand lying upon the table. He tore his eyes away from the possessed carriage, ignored the way the soft tresses of hair begging to be stroked and the soft lips momentarily moistened by the soft touch of tongue.

Eiri focused inward, noticed how he was still standing slightly tipped over, hand on the tabletop where Tohma had grasped it down earlier. He stood fully then but, realising that he might intimidate the younger man, quickly sat back down. He fiddled with the burnt-down cigarette in his other hand before finally stubbing it out.

He darted a quick look at Shuichi… who silently stared right back, gaze slowly shuttering, withdrawing.

Eiri was disconcerted.

It had always been he who had sported the aloof air, not Shuichi. Things were not going well, and the longer the silence remained, the harder it would be to break it. Who knew what the singer was thinking by now? Shuichi passed a hand over his face, wiping at it in a strained gesture. The hand shook a little as it descended back down to his lap beneath the tabletop.

Reassured by the sight, Eiri offered a small smile before hesitantly offering, "You look great."

Shuichi paused a moment, before his head tilted but slightly to one side. He softly replied, "Thank you."

No compliments were returned, Eiri noticed, watching the singer carefully. He cautiously listened to and watched Shuichi, focusing on sensing the other man's state. He found the breathing even and controlled, limbs stiff. Shuichi barely stirred and when he did, his movements were almost sluggish. And the boy did not fidget. It was such a calmly still and guarded posture that Eiri realised it was consciously enforced.

He tried again, "I suppose I look like hell by comparison to you."

Shuichi continued to meet Eiri's gaze. In a voice as soft and controlled as he had used when they had last spoken at NG, he politely murmured, "Perhaps."

It irritated Eiri that Shuichi seemed uncommunicative. He wondered if the boy even wanted to try… and was left with his therapist's favourite word: Why. Why indeed, was the question; why would Shuichi want to communicate with him? Why would Shuichi have anything to say? Why should he expect anything from the person he had taken so much from?

_He has taken a lot from me, too,_ He argued to himself.

He sighed, "I need a cigarette…" He ran a hand through his already tousled locks, the other reached for the pack and lighter on the table.

Shuichi graciously inclined his head toward the ash tray Eiri himself had just used, commenting, "This is a smoking room."

Seeing the coolness in those lavender eyes, Eiri was momentarily startled out of his irritation. He put the pack in his pocket but palmed the lighter. "You don't like the smell, anyway," he conceded.

"Don't you _need_ the nicotine?"

Well, that had a rather sarcastic touch to it. He sighed again, "It's more of a fixation than anything else." Paused briefly, looking at the ashtray before speaking again, "And you don't need the second hand smoke." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched those beautiful amethyst eyes widen a little at his words.

"That's true…"

Eiri fiddled with his lighter, tapping the table with it looking ill at ease. He looked about the room, hands generally fidgeting. His mind grabbed at the memories of his therapy session, at the things he had learned. He tried to remember what it was that he wanted to say, exactly, with the words he had carefully rehearsed so as not to anger the man he cared for. It was all just beyond his reach. He couldn't find the precise words he was looking for, and there was a jumble of random things in his mind.

The silence was driving him mad.

He suddenly pinned Shuichi with an intense gaze, leaning forward a little in his seat, "What do you need, Shuichi?"

The vocalist's eyes widened again. The hand on the table slowly curled into a loose fist as he slid his arm on the table back closer to his body, the other hand moving across his body to the other thigh. His posture had become defensive. Eiri watched the singer's guard rise, a little alarmed.

"Never mind that question," He muttered, slowly sitting back in his seat. He was annoyed he had asked such a vague question, aware of how flustered he had become.

"I wouldn't know how to answer that right now, anyway." Shuichi remained tense as he stared down at his own hand on the table top. Studiously, he uncurled it and placed his palm down flat once more.

"Well, it certainly was a bit sudden." Eiri watched the movement, the purposeful act of it, and frowned to himself. He schooled his features back to calmness and watched Shuichi's face, waiting for those eyes to meet his own. When they did, he softly admitted, "I didn't rehearse this."

Gaze calmly returning Eiri's, Shuichi nodded in understanding.

A burst of laughter echoed from outside the room, from the party going on full swing in the ballroom just beyond the wall. It seemed to Eiri that he was only now hearing the music. Realising that the younger man might leave soon, he gestured beseechingly as he spoke, "Will you stay?"

Shuichi looked askance, shifting a little in his seat, looking very ready to leave.

Eiri drew a deep breath when the other's gaze flicked away. He hesitated but a moment before adding, "Please."

Those purple eyes snapped back, the gaze curious and more than a little surprised. Shuichi nodded slowly, re-settling himself in his seat. He turned fully toward the table, clasping his hands together before him. He said nothing, chin minutely tilted with his interest.

Faintly amused, Eiri studied the small sparkle in that beautiful gaze, the innocent curiosity. The coolly collected persona remained, but that small crack in the façade loosened the tightness in his chest. He joked, "We could sit in silence, I suppose."

Shuichi looked away focusing straight ahead of himself, turning to bring both hands to the table and present his profile to the other man. "I have stayed," he stated.

Eiri mentally kicked himself. It was obvious that he was expected to carry the situation and conversation. His earlier musings of what possible things the boy could say came back to mind. There was nothing for Shuichi to say, really, this was all Eiri's play. 'I have stayed' the boy had said, which translated to: I've stayed as you asked, but that's all I concede.

"That's true." He raised a hand, gesturing with a placating manner, "And that's enough." He cleared his throat and added softly, "Thank you."

Shuichi's eyes darted back to Eiri.

Taking a deep breath, the novelist carefully chose his words, "If you would please listen, I would like to tell you what I have to say." He was aware it sounded silly, but he was thinking about saying exactly what he meant clearly so as not to be misunderstood. If there was one thing he had learned from his therapist, it was to get his words across clearly. He noted the flash of irritation that skittered over Shuichi's face, but he refused to be deterred as he continued, "I know I sound selfish…"

"You are."

Eiri recognised the solid tone behind the words, and registered the use of the word 'are' and not 'do'.

"Selfish, that is." Shuichi had looked away again, as though embarrassed to have said such a thing. Eiri watched him carefully, noticing the faint tint on the vocalist's cheeks. He also noticed it was not from embarrassment, but from pique. The boy meant what he said.

"I am, actually." Eiri agreed.

Irritation deepening, Shuichi's hands tightened together, his shoulders tensing.

Before the situation could spin out of control, Eiri pushed on, "But I…" he paused, rather embarrassed, "I want to tell you, maybe show you, that I care."

Surprised yet again, Shuichi turned to stare. As the full understanding of Eiri's words dawned on him, his cheeks flushed with angry colour. He remained silent, looking highly insulted.

Still carefully observing the boy, Eiri felt foolish for pushing his wishes yet again. He maintained his possessed expression, but his voice betrayed him. "This isn't going how I planned," he admitted weakly.

"You mean it's _me_ who isn't going as you planned," Shuichi all but snapped, eyes narrowing.

A small smile ghosted across Eiri's mouth, "Well, you never did…"

Shuichi's eyes widened and his jaw slackened a little, surprise clear across his expression.

"And I hope that now neither will I," Eiri took a restorative breath, the small smile still on his face, "I want to reiterate that I'm sorry."

Shuichi huffed, the air rushing out his nostrils sounding suspiciously like a silenced snort.

Ignoring the negativity, Eiri continued, "And that I would like to… earn your trust back."

Quietly outraged, Shuichi's eyes flashed. "For the ultimate betrayal, aren't you asking for too much?"

"Then let me rephrase that, I would like to have the opportunity to earn your trust back."

Balefully, Shuichi's brows drew together. His posture lost more of the studious calm when his hands tightened together yet again.

Eiri was encouraged that he was getting a reaction, never mind it was not as positive as he would have preferred. At least the singer wasn't putting his lungs to good use by shouting. Not yet anyway. He went on, "I would like to be a part of your life, if you will let me. Perhaps friendship would be… an acceptable start."

He let his calm demeanour slide and allowed his plea to show on his face. He reached out with a hand, requesting with the gesture and not just with his words. He wanted to display that he meant precisely what he said. "Will you let me try?"

While he honestly doubted that he would make significant progress on his first try, he wanted to keep trying. He had been forced to admit to himself that Shuichi was worth this effort. The details from both sides could come later, what mattered was that they establish the desire to attempt reconciliation.

-

Shuichi stared across the table at the love his life.

The words rang in his head: _'I am, actually', 'I want to show you I care', 'I want to reiterate that I am sorry'_. His heart clenched on the most touching ones, _'I want to earn your trust back', 'I would like to be a part of your life, if you would let me', 'Will you let me try?'_.

It shook him intensely.

He looked up at the man who was making his heart thud painfully in his chest and studied those exotic yellow cat eyes, feeling the rhythm skip a beat.

Those eyes spoke to him, told him of sincerity, of regret and pain. He could see how they called to him, pleaded, and almost begged for his acceptance. At the same time, there was a shadow – a guard. The understanding washed down over him suddenly, his breath catching. Eiri meant every word spoken, wanted him to accept the gesture and be let back into his heart. But Eiri was also defeated, fully expecting a rejection.

Shuichi's heart constricted painfully in his chest and he unconsciously reached to grasp at his chest.

Eiri was making this overture, was reaching out honestly and without reservation. Each tender phrase was heartfelt, but there was no expectation of success. Despite that, in spite of the knowledge he would only be refused, he had tried anyway. Knowing him, Shuichi was certain that this was a very out of character thing for the novelist to do, and it made it all the more special.

Shuichi closed a hand forcefully around the silk of his shirt, the tightness about his heart reaching such an agonising pressure that he bent over a little. The sound of a chair scraping across the floor made him realise that Eiri had just pushed himself up from his seat, looking alarmed. He realised that he must have worried the older man, clutching at his chest the way he had and he quickly straightened despite the pain. He held up a hand as Eiri rounded the table toward him.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, his voice hoarse. Shuichi understood he probably wasn't very convincing, which would explain why Eiri wasn't stopping, continuing the advance.

Wary and frightened of the impending invasion of his personal space, Shuichi planted both hands on the table top and hastily got to his feet. It was a mad retreat, his chair toppling over behind him. His kicked the chair away and stepped back, shying away from Eiri's approach. His eyes wide, wetness in them threatening to spill, Shuichi put up both hands, an attempt to keep the advancing man at bay.

Eiri stopped short, hands poised in the act of reaching for their target. His brows snapped together, a frown creasing his smooth face. In the next instant his expression calmed, features sliding back into that familiar cool detachedness. Shuichi could see, though. He noticed the hurt and offence taken from the rejection.

Aching, wishing not to be misunderstood, he changed his posture. He reached out with a hand and lightly grazed Eiri's shoulder, conveying his apology with the touch. He could not speak, the tightness having risen to his throat, and he shook his head. He gestured a little helplessly as he fought to relax. He sighed, trying to force the tension from his body. Instead of the release he was aiming for however, his shoulders heaved, shaking. The hot tears finally spilled and tracked down his cheeks.

For Eiri, this was obviously the last straw.

The novelist reached for him again, hands moving past the warding hands, slowly coming closer to grasp his upper arms. Gently, the hands closed on him and applied pressure. Shuichi felt himself being pulled by those hands and guided toward the tall man before him. He resisted. Vision blurred by tears, he stood his ground.

Through the haze, he vaguely registered that Eiri's chest was still growing and becoming larger in his sight. But it was no longer he who was moving, but Eiri. Slowly, unthreateningly, the man approached and enclosed him in a most tender embrace. He instinctively relaxed as the welcoming scent of familiar Gin & Tonic cologne enveloped him. A large hand slid up his back, over his neck, and guided his head to rest on a high shoulder.

Shuichi stood in the circle of Eiri's arms, his hands on the man's hard chest, melting into the embrace. Shuddering, he leaned into the warmth and tried to draw in a calming breath, but a sob rose and ripped violently from him instead. Clutching at the shirtfront beneath his hands, his tears poured down his face. He did not make further sounds, did not hiccup or heave with his tears. He shook, and the embrace tightened. He felt… safe, as though he had come home. And Eiri was his home. He knew that.

_Was_ his home.

He knew that too.

Just as he knew that Eiri had come to him with an open heart, Shuichi knew that he was now the deceptive one. He had been the deceiver long before he had been deceived. He had been the one keeping a grave truth from his lover long before his lover had betrayed him. So who was really at fault here?

Shuichi gasped as a sudden idea struck him. What if it had been _his_ fault? He could always sense when Eiri wasn't completely truthful with him, it was one of the reasons why the novelist never bothered to lie. Well, that and the man didn't care to try and lie in the first place, but who cared? All he could think about was whether or not Eiri could sense such things from him, too. Could that be the reason why they'd been at odds for months before…_that_ had happened?

Shuichi felt sick, the ideas rushing in to choke him.

If that were not bad enough, he also knew one more pivotal thing: Not only had he _been_ lying, he was still lying right now.

Eiri was being honest while Shuichi stood at the opposite side of the spectrum, in the negative. Eiri regretted what he had done and had, perhaps, never intended to commit the act he had in the first place. While he, Shuichi was definitely planning to keep up his own deception. Was he not planning a betrayal?

After all, he had no intention of telling Eiri about his condition and even less about his coming operation or its relevant probabilities. He had wanted to keep this man from the pain of worry and fear. He had wanted to make certain that the man he loved would not need to be pained by the knowledge that there was a real risk he would not make it through the operation.

Where was all his 'protect Eiri' now?

And there he stood in the man's arms, of all the audacity.

Self disgust poured into him. Reeling, he pushed his hands against that warm body he longed never to be parted from and forced himself to pull away. The tears were still coursing down his cheeks, but now they were of anger. It was anger at himself, at his lack of control and his inability to accomplish what he had set out to do.

He took the final step away, pulling completely apart and breaking the last point of contact. Dashing a hand across his face, he brushed his tears away. Eiri attempted to draw him close again, but he took another step away, shaking his head. He watched Eiri's jaw clench.

Shuichi drew a steadying breath. He would need his composure for what he was about to do, and he was already so close… so close to breaking down. He knew what needed to be done, this necessary act that he would have preferred to avoid. He shut his eyes for a moment, needing that small internal focus to steady his mind.

Opening them, he looked straight into those beautiful golden eyes and stated clearly, "No."

Eiri frowned, his confusion clear. He stepped forward, a hand outstretched, "I understand you might need some time to-"

Vehemently, guiltily, Shuichi spoke louder, "No!"

Eyes narrowing with frustration, Eiri tried again, "I understand this is difficult and I really hadn't planned this-"

Frightened that his will would not hold out long enough, Shuichi desperately cried, "I don't care if even Saint Valentine himself planned this, the answer is still no!"

He finally managed to clear his eyes of the annoying wetness, only to witness the crumbling of Eiri's mask. Observing the pain and shock on that beautiful face stunned him. He had never thought he would ever see such expressions on that calm face, on this man who had always prided himself on his ability to remain detached. It hurt him, in turn, to know that he was doing that to the man. It was he who was responsible for shattering that carefully constructed wall, of hurting the man he loved…

Without realising it, he had raised his hand toward Eiri, reaching out. Stricken, he murmured, "I'm sorry…"

Eiri snarled, lifting a hand as though to strike Shu's away. But then their eyes met and the anger crumbled. He had wanted to be indignant, wanted to swat the proffered hand away, but he caught the expression on Shuichi's face. It floored him, that regret, sadness, and… guilt. Suddenly, the situation was off-kilter and no longer made sense. He shook his head, muttering, "What..?"

Shuichi's eyes widened, realising he had slipped. All that focus and concentration and at the last second it all had deserted him. How useless! How ridiculously was this, to fail at that moment when it counted the most? Losing his composure, unable to stand the situation any longer, Shuichi snatched at the last remaining solution he could think of…

On a choked sob, Shuichi turned and ran for the door.

"Shu…? Wait!"

Shuichi ran out into the hall, panicked and shaking. He dashed past a conversing Mika and Tohma on his way to the front hall, hoping that he might be able to lose himself amongst the people crowding the street. In the ballroom, he ignored the calls for him, the concerned people who recognised him and reached out to help. He brushed them all aside, pushing through the crowd, aware that he was making a scene. He didn't care. But he also could not run much further.

"Taxi!" He demanded breathlessly of the first valet he came upon at the hotel front driveway.

"Shuichi!"

He turned at the sound of Tohma's voice. The president was looking startlingly dishevelled, as though he had pushed through the crowd just as Shuichi had done. He wondered if he looked just as rumpled, belatedly realising that he had lost his own hat and that he was attracting stares. It was too much, losing both Eiri and his composure almost in one night. His publicly crafted image of a self-possessed and capable figure was fast fading. It felt too much like he had just lost so much of what he had worked so hard for these last few months.

He broke.

Not seeing anything or anyone past the man who had become his greatest ally and one of his closest friends, he threw himself forward. He clung to the arms that opened for him, losing his balance and sinking to his knees. Tohma followed him down, holding him close as he cried.

Tohma pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and called his chauffeur, glancing back over his shoulder. Looking quite startled, Mika and Eiri stood off to one side behind them, shocked at the intensity of Shuichi's break down. The boy emitted the most pitiful of muted wails and heart-wrenching sobs.

Mika could recall how Shuichi looked when she had first seen him break, those dead purple eyes without their sparkle. She shivered, seeing a familiar scene unfold before her. Beside her Eiri winced, recognising the difference between Shuichi's dramatics and these agonized cries. To their shock, Tohma knelt upon a knee and gathered the boy into a protective fold, hands drawing soothing circles upon the singer's slim back. He whispered comforting words trying to calm Shuichi down, his actions almost tender.

"Tohma, please," Shuichi begged in a tortured voice, astonishing Mika and Eiri further, if that were possible. "Please make it stop…please help me…" He leaned in to Tohma's embrace, lips barely moving as he whispered into the man's ear.

The two watched as Tohma held Shuichi nearer, unable to discern the whispers. The matter must have been of an incredible importance, however, for they could see the changes to his demeanour, expression changing and hardening into a familiar and forbidding expression; one that they recognised as an indication that he had just made an important decision. Mika stepped forward, attempting to approach her husband who turned a darkly flashing gaze on her, stopping her in her tracks.

"We will discuss this later, Mika-san," Tohma said firmly, pulling Shuichi to his feet. Grasping the weeping young man to his body, Tohma levelled his gaze on Eiri, "Perhaps this is all for the best, Eiri-kun."

Mika was floored. This was not what she and Tohma had discussed at all.

With a purposeful step, Tohma carefully brought Shuichi with him toward the limousine just pulling into the driveway. He continued to allow the young singer's face to remain buried in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around the other. He cautiously ensconced the traumatised Shuichi in the back seat before turning to address the concerned novelist.

With a calm detachment that Eiri particularly disliked, he firmly stated before getting into the vehicle, "I'm sorry, Eiri-kun, but perhaps arranging for this meeting was a great mistake on my part. I will not insist upon a confrontation again."

Eiri and Mika watched in shock as the limousine sped away.

-

-

-

(1) In the anime series Episode 4, Bad Luck participates in a quiz show as their first appearance on TV. In the 'Dash Depot' segment, Shuichi has to run on a treadmill to win the right to answer the turnaround question and win the game. The host asks for the name of a known romance novelist, winner of various awards and is known for his tragic writing style… Needless to say, Shuichi goes nuts, runs like mad on the treadmill as he recites all the things that he knows about his lover. It culminates in the game show bell-ring signifying he has won the right to answer the question, which he does with flared nostrils and tense-excited expression: "YUKI EIRI!" ,winning the quiz show. One of the details he recited was Eiri's birthday

(2) Ferrari Modena: An existing model; closest in appearance to the red animal Mika was driving in the anime when she kidnapped Shuichi from a rehearsal at Zepp Tokyo. Google at will

(3) Reference to opening scene in Chapter 5

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Review or comment, please!


	10. The Battle Begins

CHAPTER 10

The Battle Begins

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-

-

Silence reigned in the Bad Luck office.

K watched as his companions studied the television where surveillance footage was paused on a surprising scene on the driveway of the Hotel Intercontinental, last night's party venue. In the shot, staring and pointing people were just visible on the edges of the frame. Seguchi Mika and Yuki Eiri stood to the right of the shot, behind Seguchi Tohma himself ushering Shuichi into a limousine to the left.

Pointing the remote control at the console, K backed it up a few moments, to the frame where Seguchi-san first found himself with an armful of singer. The scene was one he found the most telling. Here, Seguchi's face was visible only to a portion to the driveway and maybe the people behind Shuichi… and to the camera. On that face was an expression of honest concern… and a tinge of fright. Save for himself he was certain that seeing the NG president this way, and the manner with which he had held Shuichi close, was a side none in the room had ever witnessed.

K was truly puzzled.

Arrangements had been for the president and his brother-in-law to speak to Shuichi about a certain plan the two had concocted to finally get the former couple in each other's company. With the lifestyle and schedule the two had, not to mention the upcoming tour, there would be little chance the two would ever cross paths again on their own. Sure, they shared a few friends but those people were either not in support of the relationship, or stupid enough to try something. The one person who was smart enough, had weight enough, to pull it off had not succeeded. The lack of this success was as yet unknown and it didn't seem likely that anyone would soon find out since Shuichi appeared to have withdrawn again, this time not talking to anyone but Seguchi.

It annoyed him that the singer would shut him out, but it shocked him that Shuichi had shut out not just him but his band mates and producer as well. He had not told anyone about Shuichi's health problem, respecting the boy's desire to shield them from the pain and trouble of it, so it didn't make sense for them all to be on the boy's black list. With the secret safe and the singer having expressed intentions of eventually telling them all the truth, shouldn't he be basking in the uncomplicated affections? Enjoying it while he could?

The same should apply to Yuki-san.

The singer should be taking advantage of the novelist's attention while he still could, right? Well, that's what made sense. Though, in all honesty, K preferred that things be over and done with between those two, as cleanly cut as possible. They were far too much trouble together, the headaches outweighing their Publicity worth as a couple. But he could now clearly see what Hiro had been warning him about and it annoyed him that he had not noticed it sooner: The distance from Yuki, regardless of the betrayal, was slowly killing his singer. And the Shuichi was ignoring the needed lifeline right in front of him, which he would have thought the boy would be snatching at.

"It's fortunate that I handled the security for the launch party," K commented, rousing the room from their thoughts. "What do you make of it?"

Hiro's open-mouthed shock melted into an infuriated scowl. "That bastard deserves to be run over!" He clenched his fist on the table top, "He's run Shu into the ground again, of all the-- I'm glad Shuichi ran from him!" He turned to regard his band mate next to him and said, " i He /i has always held Shu back, messed up his creativity and music. i He /i was never good for Shu, who deserves to be happy…" He sighed, his rant trailing off, and sat back in his seat.

Uesugi Tatsuha shot the guitarist a mild yet familiar-looking glare from across the table. K was again startled by the physical similarities between the Uesugi brothers.

K turned to catch Hiro's gaze and sternly told him, "Don't even try to sing that song, Hiro. We have to be honest here, take everything we know into consideration." He gestured generally to the roomful of people as a whole. "You know Shuichi best, Fujisaki and Tatsuha know both Shuichi and Seguchi, while Sakano…" He paused to threaten the whimpering man with his gun, "Knows Shuichi and more than a few things about Seguchi." He turned his gaze back to Hiro. "We have a good balance and we need to figure this one out between ourselves since Shuichi isn't talking to any of us."

As his listeners fell into deep thought, considering everything they had just learned and trying to piece things together, K rolled his eyes. They were supposed to be speaking out loud, trying to get thoughts out and see how it fit it with that anyone else had in mind… not dreaming up individual ideas and conspiracy theories to—

Oh, yeah. Conspiracy…

K sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ease the rising headache and tried again, "Do you really believe that Shuichi is getting over Yuki? After all the love songs, the troubles, the emotional breakdowns—"

"And the fact that he calls for Yuki-san in his sleep," Fujisaki interjected. Tatsuha and Hiro glance at their younger friend with mild surprise. Fujisaki tossed them both a derisive look before pinning Hiro with his gaze. "He spent time in my bed, too."

Hiro froze at this. Tatsuha got a funny look on his face and opened his mouth to speak but K cut him off with a pointed glare, figuring the Yuki-look alike was about to ask a stupid question.

"He came to me also," K admitted, deciding the young guitarist needed to hear his side of this story as well. Hiro turned to face him now looking completely shocked. "But then he stopped, thanked me politely for my support, and never came back. I figured things were better then."

Fujisaki tossed his housemates a quick look, "He stopped coming to you first, K-san, then me, then Hiro." He settled back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest as he considered his own words. "He stepped away last from those closest to him. He was trying to withdraw some time before this," he gestured to the TV, "was ever even planned."

"Speaking of plan," Tatsuha interjected, learning forward, eyes narrowing at the gunman. "How did you know what Seguchi-san was up to?"

"I helped arrange it," K bluntly replied. Tatsuha backed down. "So, the question stands. Do any of you really believe that Shuichi is getting over Yuki?"

Hiro sat back in his chair and glanced over at Fujisaki next to him, before sighing as he tipped his chin down, hair sliding forward to hide his expression. "No."

Thoughtfully, Fujisaki gestured to the television and the scene displayed, and K noted the expression as one the boy wore when composing new musical arrangements. "Tohma's behaviour is predictable only in that he will always protect what he wants or cares about. Business, family, friends, it's all the same."

"Then why would he protect Shuichi this way?" Hiro gestured to the scene on the television. "Sure business wise, it makes sense, but this looks personal to me."

Catching Hiro's gaze, Fujisaki quickly replied, "I agree. Then there must be something that needs greater protection over Yuki-san, which is rather puzzling because in the hierarchy of things, Yuki-san is pretty high up."

"Aniki is second only to Mika," Tatsuha agreed. "Whatever it is, whoever it is, it'd have to be incredibly important for it to surpass him."

"Unless it actually hasn't surpassed Yuki-san at all, na-no-da!" A childish voice interjected.

"Ryuichi-sama!" gasped Tatsuha, losing all seriousness, reduced to goggle-eyed fan boy wonder at the sight of his idol.

"Tatsuha-kun!" squealed the music god as he bounded into the room. "Long time no see, no-da!"

Hiro stared at the new comer, eyes narrowed in a frown. "What do you mean by hasn't surpassed Yuki-san?"

Ryuichi blinked, his features hardening into a disconcerting solemnity, and turned his sharp gaze on the blond gunman. K caught the look and held it, saying, "What he is implying is that Seguchi is doing this i in order to protect Yuki. /i "

Tatsuha looked all the more interested in the serious side of the man he adored, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from the handsome rock star…

K caught the monk's startled expression, disliking the uncertain dawning of puzzlement in them. Apparently looks were not the only thing he shared with his brother. He was about to shoot the rock god a warning look, something to just prod the singer into awareness of the fanboy's perception, when the office door slammed inward with a resounding crash.

In its threshold stood a fiery Seguchi Mika, eyes narrowed and looking dangerously close to losing her temper. Tatsuha, attention jerked away from the object of his obsession, cringed with sudden fright. She swept them all a ferocious glare before focusing on the television and the scene still paused there.

"I was about to ask you," she glared at Hiro, "what in hell was wrong with that brat."

Hiro bristled a little at her name-calling of his best friend.

"But now, I think we all need to have a little chat." She turned her icy gaze on K, "Don't you agree?"

K chomped down on his irritation, the earlier slight clench of a headache rising to a painful throb behind his eyes.

He could handle the kids and the secret he was hiding from them, but Mika was a whole other animal. He slowly eyed her up and down, hiding his trepidation, with an air of carefully appraising her. Around the cigarette dangling out the corner of his mouth he told her,

"You first."

-

-

-

It had been two days since Shuichi had seen Yuki.

And he was right back to where he had been three months ago: writing sad and longing love songs. He sighed as he trudged his way through the halls of NG, annoyed and frustrated. He couldn't help it. He just had no other emotions to write about. No matter what, he just could not write about specific things on demand. It really depended on how he was feeling, what was going on in his life. That was the problem with feeling his music as deeply as he did.

The problem was, he was supposed to be writing about happy love. He needed to replace a few lines in a couple of old songs up for rearrangement in preparation for the upcoming tour. And the words were just not coming to him.

He sighed again as he stepped into the elevator, punching the button for the penthouse – the presidential office.

A few people got on and off the lift as it made its way up through the tower of NG, but Shuichi was far away, staring out through the glass at the city of Tokyo becoming smaller and smaller beneath him. No one disturbed him and no one called the singer's attention. He supposed it was because of the rumours from the concert crew of how Yuki had been at the concert, and was thankful that people let him be.

Sparing the sentinels on duty a quick smile, he waved to the secretary on the phone at her front desk and stepped up to the large oak doors of Tohma's office. After his usual quick rap upon the wood, he pushed his way in.

"—and there is a party coming up to celebrate the good sales figures we have been experiencing. It would be best if you attended so that you can meet the rest of the NG family." Tohma was speaking, audience listening with rapt attention in spite of Shuichi's intrusion. He recognised the group, a trio punk rock group called Hungry Young Poets (1). He smiled at the star-struck group who stared adoringly at Tohma, and who had yet to realise there was a newcomer to the room.

Tohma looked up from the contracts and smiled warmly. "Hello, Shindou-san. Please take a seat." He never turned Shuichi away anymore. The rock group turned and goggled, losing what little of their composure they'd had left. As Shuichi moved toward them, he smiled and took up the last line of Tohma's familiar welcoming speech,

"Hello! Welcome to the NG family." They stared, smiles breaking out.

"Cool!" the singer and bassist exclaimed. He stepped forward to introduce himself as Arashi with a polite little bow, addressing the Bad Luck singer as Shindou-sama. Shuichi waved the formalities aside.

"Don't worry about all that, you are part of NG now. I've become your senpai!(5)" He smiled as he spoke, coming to stand near them before Tohma's desk. The band manager leaned forward to discuss a few small details with Tohma while Shuichi held the band's attention.

Arashi's warm blue eyes shone down at Shuichi happily. "This is my girlfriend and guitarist, Miwako, and this is our drummer, Kajiura." Miwako was a small girl, just a tad shorter than Shu himself, her pale pink corkscrew curls bouncing as she hopped a little with her excitement. Her brilliant grey eyes sparkled as she giggled joyously. (2)

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you, Shuichi!" Her singsong baby voice entranced him and he found himself taking to her sweet and open manner. She teased him a little, telling him he shouldn't have copied her hair colour, her blush giving away it had truly been he who'd inspired her hairstyle. In the course of their conversation, Kajiura asked if they might do a cover of Rage Beat, Bad Luck's first hit single. To this, Shuichi shook his head in the negative.

"This is your time to shine and put out your own music," he scolded. "You have so much talent or Seguchi-san would not have signed you, and I believe in that talent." They sighed as he spoke, smiling softly at the praise. "I wouldn't mind working with you on a new song, however. But you will still have to do most of the work!"

The group excitedly agreed, exclaiming they would indeed hold him to his words. Their manager began to usher them out but they seemed loathe leaving, so absorbed they were in discussions of music.

"Get going and see your office!" Shuichi told them, excited for the new group.

"We have an office?!"

He laughed. "I'll show you the Bad Luck office sometime. Have fun!" And with final farewells they were herded out the door.

Shuichi turned to take his seat, catching a genuine smile on Tohma's face, and he realised the man had been watching him interact with the group.

"What's that smile for?" Shuichi teased, unable to stop his own answering smile.

"I am pleased to see that I am not mistaken, Shuichi," he replied, gently approving. "Your experience, attitude and personality, not to mention the many songs that you have written that Sakano and I have cut from your albums… you really are suited to becoming a producer later in your career." There was a flash of intense excitement that Tohma easily caught in the singer's eyes, though he was rather surprised at the intensity.

He arched a brow at the startled singer. "Just think of all the raw talent out there waiting to be discovered." He studied Shuichi carefully, watching the boy's eyes cloud dreamily, and continued, "It's incredibly satisfying to see young dreams bloom into mind-blowing reality, and I know you have experienced a taste of this working with Jubilee."

"Tohma," Shuichi begged, a touch of a whine in his voice, "don't tease…"

"Actually I am quite serious. I am hoping you will consider it further when you return from recovery."

The smile slid off the singer's face. " i If /i I return from recovery."

Tohma maintained his smile with effort. "I am of the opinion that this will be successful."

A little frustrated, the emotion manifesting in a low warning tone, Shuichi reminded him, "The operation is a fifty-fifty chance, Tohma, and you know it."

"I do know," he sighed a little, his smile fading altogether. "And it pains me greatly." He slipped the Hungry Young Poets' contracts away for the legal department to handle then turned to regard his visitor. "What may I do for my number one singer today?"

Shuichi fidgeted a little in his seat. "I realised I forgot something." His gaze met Tohma's. "I wanted to thank you for the other night and to apologise for the trouble you must have had with Mika-chan afterward…"

"There is no need for any of that but who am I to tell you what to do?" His eyes sparkled before he seized the opportunity presented, "Perhaps you can accompany me to lunch by way of thanks?"

Shuichi ignored the kind gesture, one he recognised as Tohma's effort to shield him from prying friends. Stubbornly, he stood his ground on the matter. He shook his head, stood and solemnly faced Tohma before bowing and giving humble thanks. Tohma's brows rose a little, before he stood and came around the desk to the singer.

Fondly rumpling the boy's hair, he smiled. "You are welcome, Shuichi."

There was a look in the man's eyes that Shuichi had only glimpsed before, but which now shone clearly. It was an expression of sadness, longing and delight all at once, and he quirked a brow in query.

"You remind me of someone I once knew," the man admitted.

Catching the subtle tenderness, Shuichi understood who it was Tohma was thinking about. "I am not him," he whispered.

"You are not, indeed." Tohma affirmed with a reassuring smile. "But you are precious."

Shuichi didn't have anything to say to that, startled by the expression he had seen earlier, now shining again in the man's eyes and directed at him.

"Thank you, Shuichi."

He was about to deny having done anything worthy of thanks when he saw Tohma meant what he said. It was then he realised that somehow, he had come to be important to the man separate of protecting Yuki and Bad Luck. Hesitating but a moment, he reached out and laid a hand gently on Tohma's arm in a gesture that could be equated to the man ruffling his hair earlier.

"You are welcome, Tohma." They shared a small smile. Flashing a mischievous grin, Shuichi continued, "but I already have a lunch date."

Tohma's eyes slid shut as he tilted his chin up for a laugh. "And who is it who has stolen your time from me?"

With a small blush, Shuichi admitted, "Well, you did introduce me to him…"

"Then I believe I know who you are going to see."

"Is there anything you i don't /i know?" Shuichi pouted a little, earning himself another rumpling of his hair.

Eyes twinkling, Tohma replied, "Very little, actually." He turned to make his way back around his desk and resume his seat.

"Well?"

Tohma hid his smile. "It is your decision."

Giving the man an annoyed look, Shuichi retook his seat as well and glowered across the table.

Tohma chuckled. "You know, I've seen so little of that expression in the past few years. I find it an amusing and refreshing thing to have someone besides my wife brazen enough to pull that face on me." Shuichi continued to glower and that rare, genuine smile curved Tohma's lips.

"He is gentlemanly," He finally answered Shuichi's unasked question. "Though his eyes, as I am sure you have noticed, are anything but. It is there you will clearly read what he really thinks despite what he says and does."

Just like Yuki.

Except the gentlemanly part.

Shuichi winced and Tohma's brow tightened. Not for the first time, Shuichi suspected the man of reading his thoughts. Thankfully, he didn't apologize, which would only have brought Yuki truly into the conversation. It was a turn Shuichi was not certain he could handle right now.

"I believe he will make a good friend, of course." Tohma continued easily. "He can be very attentive and charming. I think you will have fun with him."

Shuichi nodded, eyes refocusing. "We are working together on the production of Jubilee's debut album."

Tohma inclined his head politely. "I am sure you will find many things in common, and have quite a good time."

-

-

-

Mika carefully shut Eiri's apartment door behind her with a sigh.

Eiri had stormed in ahead of her just a moment ago, slamming the door behind him with his ire. She'd called out to him to remind him she was still on his tail, but he'd ignored her. Hence, the ringing ears.

She and her stormy brother had just returned from their weekly late-lunch date. Unfortunately, they had returned without having actually eaten anything. If that wasn't bad enough, they were not closer or more amicably acquainted as they usually were after these meetings.

No.

Instead, they had been unwillingly fed the latest bit of 'Shuichi gossip'. Apparently, the boy had been sighted on the arm of a tall blonde resembling Eiri, with a nasty accompanying headline. Mika had recognised the man and had tried to explain the man was a producer at NG, but her brother would hear none of it. His eyes had flashed before he'd stood up and left her to chase after him from the coffee shop in an unpleasantly nostalgic manner.

Mika sighed again.

Now would be her cue to go hunt her brother down. Depending on his mood, he would be either in the kitchen or the office. From their talks, she knew Eiri disliked the bedroom when he was upset about Shuichi. Something about it not being i his /i bed. She did not understand that. In any case, at times like this he preferred the sanctuary of his office or the one place away from the bedroom that he and Shuichi had enjoyed together –the kitchen.

Kitchen, she decided, a soft smile playing about her lips as she remembered a few tales of how Shuichi would sit with uncharacteristic patience to watch Eiri cook. Her brother had shared how Shuichi had told him that it was like being cooked for by a spouse, a gesture of love and responsibility. They both enjoyed good food, and the singer had proclaimed Eiri's cooking his favourite.

Mika had yet to draw her brother's attention to the fact that he sought out these places of good memories when he was upset, not wishing to remove a measure of comfort from his own home. Her brother needed to have safe zones in his own house which was too full of memories as it was.

Sure enough, there he stood by the stove, glaring out the window with both hands stuffed into his pockets. She silently took a seat in the breakfast nook by the door and looked out the window closest to her. She had changed; they both had. Silently, they watched the February gloom until Eiri let out a snort and turned to get busy. He pulled out a pot and filled it with water before setting it on the stove to boil. He pulled out seafood, vegetables and noodles, sesame oil and various other ingredients which Mika recognised as the components for Ramen (4).

Shuichi's favourite comfort food.

For the third time since she stepped into the apartment earlier, she sighed. Resuming staring out the window, Mika spoke softly, not really expecting a reply:

"I don't think it's a bad thing that you think of him… of Shuichi,"

Eiri did not pause.

"After all, he seems to think about you all the time too." She was trying to be careful of what she said, but at the same time wanted to reveal more of what she knew to her brother. "I think what really worries me is that while he has an outlet for his feelings in his music, I wonder if you have a way of letting out your own frustrations."

Eiri continued chopping vegetables. He did not, she noted, deny the existence of 'frustration'.

She knew Eiri was no longer even speaking to Tohma about such matters, not since Tohma had refused to share what Shuichi had told him. Eiri had considered it a betrayal of sorts until Tohma had argued he would in turn be betraying Shuichi for sharing what the singer had divulged. The stalemate had resulted in her brother's withdrawal from her husband, and Mika had taken the initiative to pledge she would not tell Tohma what Eiri shared with her. It was working well enough, the trust was building, but Mika remained dissatisfied.

"It would be good if you could speak to someone, in my opinion," Mika carefully worded herself in a calm tone.

Eiri had recently discussed therapy specifics with her, explaining how his doctor had taught him to communicate clearly. She'd learned a little from that conversation, and was mindful of it. In the past she would have angrily insisted that Eiri speak to her immediately.

Reflecting on that thought, she added, "I'm really quite impressed with the progress you've made in communicating--"

"What use is it if I can't use it?" Eiri muttered, not looking at her.

Carefully containing her joy at the response, Mika softly supplied, "You've only used it on me. If you applied it all the time I am sure others will soon notice the difference and respond."

Eiri smiled humourlessly.

"But not the one you want to benefit from it, is that so?" she mused.

Eiri lit a cigarette on the stove and took a leisurely puff. "Everything's been snatched away, just when I thought that there was a possibility, that there would be time and opportunities, it fell apart before I even had the chance to exploit it."

Mika understood. There was that 'contract' Eiri had told her about, that clever little idea to bring the two together. Even she had been impressed by her husband's trick.

She asked, "Has Tohma already withdrawn the contract?"

He shook his head. "My lawyer put in a compensation clause knowing how much this meant to me, and that'll take some time to work around."

Feeling a little guilty, Mika brazenly commented, "I don't see why you should surrender the contract if it is to your disadvantage to do so."

Eiri's eyes flashed golden sparks at her when he looked up from the simmering pot. Her gaze slid away at the sight of a familiar devilish glint.

"He told me," Eiri turned back to the pot as he spoke, "that Shuichi was occupied with too many other responsibilities. That he had no true control over what the brat decides to do or does with his time other than contractual obligation."

Mika snorted mildly, inelegantly, obviously not believing a word of it either.

Pulling out two bowls, Eiri's frown deepened. "He mentioned that it was you who had suggested the meeting at the party and you who would bring Shu, if he would bring me." He set the table with utensils. "He suggested it be you I speak to about arranging another meeting."

Mika scowled a little as she watched her brother spoon the aromatic stew into the bowls and set them on the table. He took a seat opposite her with his back to the window. He picked up his chopsticks and spoon then met her gaze,

"From your silence and that expression, he didn't tell you he said that did he?"

She sighed, shook her head, and began to eat. After a few bites she took the plunge. "I think there is something Tohma and Shuichi aren't telling us; something that doesn't have anything to do with your relationship."

He looked at her, silent.

"He really does miss you and--"

"Damn it, Mika! You did not hear what he said to me in that room."

"Then will you tell me?"

"I would rather not," he muttered, suddenly dropping the volume of his voice and resuming his meal.

"Shuichi and Tohma refuse to say a word to me about what happened," Mika admitted, "which in itself is odd."

Eiri ignored her.

She sighed, wondering if she was ever going to get used to any of this. "I won't lie to you, he did try to tell me that he would rather not see you, but his eyes…"

"It's always his eyes." They shared a smile.

Quickly, grasping at the opportunity of having Eiri in a good mood, Mika relayed the band's suspicions of things having been wrong before the incident of infidelity, of what may presently still be an issue. Eiri remained coolly unresponsive on the matter.

"It must either be we're completely off target or the security for it is too tight." Mika spooned up the last bit of her soup.

Eiri growled, "Speaking of security risks, I think I have to move house."

She looked up in surprise.

He gestured indifferently. "Book sales have dropped, fan mail has gone up… or should I say hate mail. Some of them have been making their way directly to my door." He frowned as he told her, "Someone recently slashed my tires." At Mika's small laugh, his expression darkened. He looked away when he grumbled, "And now I'll be forced to pack the brat's things."

"He left his things?" Mika demanded.

Eiri gave his sister a funny look. "He hasn't returned since walking out. All his things are still here."

Interest peaked, Mika queried, "Everything?"

"Even his back pack."

Mika's expression turned sly. "Where is it?"

-

-

-

Eiri unceremoniously barged into Tohma's office and, shooting the man the nastiest glare of his entire repertoire, made his announcement.

He made it clear, with his words, tone and posture, that he would accept no contradictions over the matter. He would not be arguing over it, and he would not be making allowances of any sort. He would get exactly what he wanted or there would be hell to pay.

And Tohma, the poor bastard, would be whose hide from which he would extract that pay.

The NG president had eyed him with an appraising expression before putting on a small smile that annoyed Eiri to his limits. Tohma then made a call to the NG legal department and Eiri listened to this side of the conversation. He watched the man carefully, all the while unflinchingly meeting that aquamarine gaze. When he was certain things were going precisely as he desired, and his insolent brother-in-law had set the phone back down on its cradle, he left without another word.

He made a mental note to take Mika out to a nice dinner. He would share how he had been rudely concise, and relay the immense pleasure he'd derived from snarling out the words that had gotten him what he wanted:

"You will withdraw the contract for me to write the book 'Twelve Kisses: On Tour with Bad Luck', Seguchi Tohma, over my dead body!"

-

-

-

(1) Hungry Young Poets is a defunct group of which my friend Ricci was bassist. They existed in two parts, but always with Ricci, once in America and next but lastly, in the Philippines.

(2) Arashi and Miwako are taken from the anime Paradise Kiss, no relation to this story and no, it is not a crossover. The only similarity is that Arashi really was in a band in Para-Kiss.

(4) Ramen: General term for Chinese noodle soup

(5) Senpai: Upperclassman, work or school environment. It has various applications.

-

Review or comment, please!


	11. Give a Little

CHAPTER 11

Give a Little

-

-

-

Uesugi Tatsuha grinned across the table at his brother and received a scowl in return.

The brothers were sitting in the window-front smoking section of a café. They had just finished negotiations, Eiri asking for Tatsuha's help in moving house and the younger Uesugi bargaining for having an option on a guest room. And now, the two were precise mirror images in opposition: Tatsuha grinning while Eiri scowled, he dark where his brother was pale, Eiri dressed in unrelieved black and he in various colours, and they were sitting in almost the same pose opposite each other across the café table. He had to grin at the mental image he conjured of them. Dismissing his own humour, he conversationally changed topics and asked,

"What did you think of the Valentine's Day concert?"

Pulling his gaze away, Eiri tapped out a stick from his pack of cigarettes and took it with his lips. As he fumbled with his lighter, he muttered around the dangling stick, "Good."

"Are there any other adjectives you'd care to apply?" Tatsuha prodded.

"None at the moment."

"That good, huh?" Tatsuha's expression turned downright devilish as he muttered, "Must have made you really horny to have--" He leaned back quickly out of the way when a pale hand came swooping by, fingertips just brushing over his bangs. It would have smacked him broadside his head had he not been expecting it. He laughed and Eiri's expression turned, if it was possible, even sourer. But the writer did not, as he might have done in the past, get up and wordlessly leave. Silently thankful for the change in his sibling but still wanting to push his luck a little, he commented, "You know, I like this therapist of yours."

Eiri glared warningly as he tapped ash from his cigarette and picked up his coffee cup.

Tatsuha ignored his brother's look and smiled affectionately, sincerely, "I've been dying of curiosity since you let slip how she made you write a whole Checklist of Sociability… but I dare say its working." He grinned mischievously before adding, "I get to see it in action and I'm impressed. You're beginning to pass for human now."

"Kindly refrain from making this more unpleasant than it already is, Tatsu."

He ignored those dangerously flashing eyes and, attention drawn away, grinned over his brother's blonde head and waved at Hanabishi Aku and Hisashi Kaoru, who had just unexpectedly stepped through the café doors.

"Too late," he told Eiri. He waved the couple over, indicating they should join the brothers.

"Hello, Ice King," Aku greeted as he pulled out a chair for his girlfriend.

"Aku!" Tatsuha smiled as he gave the man a brief hug. "It's great to run into you like this." Tatsuha had remained friends with his older brother's former classmate when Eiri had gone to live in New York with Tohma. His respect for the man had increased ten fold when Aku had stood by his brother when the then-traumatised teen had returned. Aku was, to him, something of a second older brother. They kept in touch, met up a few times at restaurants or bars with and without Aku's girlfriend… and sometimes, a certain singer would tag along.

"It is nice to see you again, Yuki-san," Kaoru smiled politely, uncertainly. Catching on to the lovely woman's discomfort around his brother, Tatsuha grinned widely at her in a warmly welcoming manner. He would be enough to balance things out for his stoic sibling.

"Hey there, Hisashi-san! How are you doing?" Tatsuha engaged the girl in small talk, distracting her from Eiri's chilly demeanour and getting her to relax. Concerned, he kept an ear on the other conversation as well, however.

"You look better," Aku was saying. "How was your term in the centre?" To Tatsuha, it was a testament to the relationship Eiri shared with Aku for the man to easily ask after his brother's stay in rehabilitation. The two old friends had seen little of each other since this mess with the press and Bad Luck had begun.

"Successful, that's all that matters," Eiri replied shortly, on a low tone. "How are you and…" his gaze flickered over the girl his brother was keeping occupied, a small frown on his face as he struggled to recall her name.

"Kaoru," Aku supplied, kindly. He disregarded the rudeness, and it seemed to matter to the man that Eiri was trying. "We're good. We celebrated our two year anniversary last week." Tatsuha wondered if Eiri and Shuichi had set themselves an anniversary when the singer had moved in with the writer just over two years prior. Judging by the small frown creasing his brother's brow, Eiri must have been thinking the same thing.

"That's… nice," Eiri commented, stubbing out his cigarette. "Congratulations."

Aku stifled his growing smile, kept it from blossoming into a full grin. "Thank you," he replied politely with a nod.

-

The conversation grew warmer and genuinely interesting as the lunch progressed. And Tatsuha carefully observed his brother throughout, noting how Eiri was really trying to participate.

Not once did the novelist lose his temper, snap or say something sarcastic. He remained charming and kind, despite the indifferent expression he wore the entire time, smoking one cigarette after another. He almost seemed like his old self, the nice and engaging side that he put on to get people to do what he wanted, but there was a touch of sincerity this time which Tatsuha hadn't really seen before.

It wasn't that Eiri was plain rude. It was just that the man preferred not to waste time. He was a purpose-person, doing things only for a reason when and if they needed doing. Sure he could get nasty and rude very quickly, but that was because of his short temper. If you kept in mind the disclaimer that no matter what he said and what tone of voice he used, that in the end it was always what he did that counted, you would see Eiri's real self. For the most part, the writer was actually quite easy to deal with. He did what he meant and meant what he did, said what he meant and meant what he said. No games.

If you asked him a question, you'd get an answer. It might be delivered in monosyllables without any buffers, but it was an honest reply. But most people just found it very difficult to deal with such a black and white person, one who was simply without any dressings or unnecessary warmth. Though, when Eiri cared, he really did. Tatsuha had experienced it, knew that when push came to shove, his brother would be there for him. He might occasionally drive Eiri crazy, and Tatsuha knew he did sometimes deserve a smack upside his head, but even he knew his brother loved him too.

Simple.

It's so simple, it's complicated.

Hanabishi Aku and only a few others had understood this. Shuichi had been one of them, and without the benefit of knowing Eiri from before the writer had lived in New York. If anything, that kid had instinctively read his brother better than Tatsuha had ever thought would be possible. Pondering this, he wondered how one would feel to lose the person who had understood? Tatsuha couldn't imagine it. All he knew was, his brother loved that boy and was loved in return… that and Shuichi had always needed to be 'fetched', so why the heck had the singer turned Eiri away?

He sighed.

Tatsuha watched his brother, who was in turn carefully observing Aku and Kaoru. It seemed that every time the couple touched each other, Eiri's eyes were drawn to the point of contact. The writer was careful to keep his glances surreptitious, his attention unnoticed, but curiosity gleamed in those hazel eyes… and a touch of longing. When Kaoru left to go to the ladies room, Aku and Tatsuha together pinned Eiri with their eyes. The novelist ignored them.

"What is it?" Aku asked, stealing a cigarette from Eiri's pack on the table. "You were clever, but I saw those looks you were throwing our way." Directing his glare at the table, the writer took a leisurely drag off his own stick before asking,

"How?" He frowned a little, as though not quite happy with the question he had asked, looking unable to ask what he meant. "How do you… do that?" He gestured in Kaoru's general direction.

"She is my best friend," Aku replied simply, in a tone of voice that implied his answer made perfect sense. "I think it is because we are friends that anything beyond is made possible."

"Beyond, hmm?" The writer murmured, turning his head to face the window and absently watch the passers-by.

"A relationship is based on friendship and you know that, you've written about it!" Aku snorted a little, smiling amiably.

Tatsuha grinned. "Aniki knows _everything_ about love," he turned to observe Eiri's reaction to his next words, "but not too much about relationships yet." Other than a twitching of his eye, Eiri didn't react and continued to watch the people on the street. Presently, Kaoru returned and everyone stood to leave. Tatsuha and Eiri excused themselves and the couple bid the brothers fare well. As the two were walking away, the Uesugis overheard her ask,

"It's White Day in two weeks, do you think we could do something together?"

Eiri scowled.

White Day, the flip side of Valentine's and the day of reciprocity between lovers. Shuichi had sent him flowers… the flowers of which he had turned upside down and pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen to dry. He had absolutely no intention of throwing them away when, in their dried state, they looked just as delicate and interesting as when they were fresh… and they were a gift from Shuichi.

He found himself honestly wanting to accept the cue to reciprocate for Shu's Valentine's Day gesture. It should go over better this time when Shuichi would be forced to accept his gift, even if simply out of sheer politeness. He didn't want another rejection to rack up on his score. Especially when he really believed that Shuichi belonged to him. The singer had said so himself, if those Valentine's Day flowers were anything to go by… Hell, he really needed to settle that one. He made a mental note to call Miho-san and ask about that bouquet, just to confirm who they'd been from.

In the parking garage, he and Tatsuha wordlessly nodded to each other and parted ways. Eiri unlocked and slid into his car, sitting back into the leather to enjoy the silence.

He sank into his thoughts, thinking back to how he had promised himself and his therapist that he would do something to try and express how he felt to Shuichi. He would not make a big deal of it if his former lover refused his apologies now. He wanted to keep trying and he wanted Shuichi to know the truth, because just telling the little singer now would not be enough. He wanted the boy to fully understand that he meant every word, from apology to confession. He wanted his words to mean something, to be recognised for the heartfelt intention it was. And if at the end of it all when Shuichi truly understood how he felt, then maybe the boy would hurt less if he still wanted to walk away.

He felt rather proud of himself for not asking Tatsuha how Shuichi was these days. Because even though he felt Shu was his, and that he belonged to the little brat, he honestly wasn't so sure their relationship could be mended anymore. But he could do with remaining in doubt about a future with Shuichi. Not asking, not knowing, was easily the lesser of evils between sating his mad curiosity and hearing the boy might be over him. Eiri growled softly to himself.

Friendship and equality, Aku had implied. He didn't really know how to apply that to his relationship with Shuichi…

He sighed.

What relationship? The boy had left him, and knowing what he did now, he could not be surprised he'd been abandoned. He had never expected to learn so much about relationships just by more actively participating in those he already had, and observing those within his 'realm'. To see really was to believe. As his brother had so succinctly pointed out, he knew a lot about love, and nothing about relationships. Oh, he knew the formulae and the order of things, the bases and the levels, but nothing about what it really was in real life. Romance in the books he wrote were just fiction, a passionate and illogical coming-together, or maybe just a dream woven for the same people who had grown up on shining knights in armour and princesses in castles.

He snorted at the image his mind conjured of Shuichi in a medieval gown. If Shuichi could ever be dressed as the princess in the tower, then Eiri would be the dragon holding hostage. He really felt, really believed, that he had been the selfish monster who had kept someone of such beauty to himself when the boy could have been happier elsewhere.

But he couldn't let go.

No matter what he thought and no matter what logic told him, he could not, _would not_, let the brat go. He would admit he was a selfish bastard and that he didn't love the boy enough to let him go, whatever it was he would admit it but there was nothing enough to shame him into embarrassment over the truth. Whatever happiness was, whatever it would be that could make Shuichi happy, Eiri wanted to be the one to give it to him. Just the thought that someone else—

His stomach clenched and his vision slid a little to one side. Ugh… He couldn't even stomach the idea.

-

-

-

Bad Luck was due to depart for Fukushima, the location of the second concert of the tour, in two days.

Therefore it was natural that the band, Mr K and Sakano-san hold their usual pre-conference meeting before a pre-departure press conference. It was there they learned from Seguchi-san that this tour would be serving as a source of publicity in more ways than the usual. Apparently, the public was to learn more about the group in the form of a scrap book and interview collection of their tour experience. The schedule was a lot less hectic this time around, they learned, so that they would not be too stressed out to participate in this little side project.

A little side project that would include a photographer… and a certain novelist.

Shuichi was beyond upset, of course. He demanded to know the contract signing date, everyone but Seguchi looking a little puzzled as to why that would in any way be significant. But upon hearing the answer, he had immediately calmed down and acknowledged the situation without further argument, glaring at the NG president. That Tohma had been trying to give him and Yuki an opportunity to work things out, but that was before the Twelve Kisses party and the new promise Tohma had made not to meddle. A few months ago he would have been happy that he and Yuki were being thrown together… when he hadn't been so scared yet. When things were still just about him and Yuki and not about him, Yuki and some other stupid woman who…

Forget that. Now there was a contract involved and that photographer… Shuichi sighed.

He could accept this. He could and he would. He supposed his acceptance didn't make any sense to the rest of the band but he refused to respond to further prodding into the matter. Hiro looked mightily pissed off about that. Great, just great…

Stupid Tohma.

Shuichi remained stubbornly silent as he and the band trooped up onto the conference table, then switched on his pleasant side for the press once everyone had settled. He took control as he always did, courting the media and wooing them with his charms. He plagued them with his trademark childishness, most impish smiles and cutest giggles. This was a game and he would be damned if he was going to let the opposition score another point on him. He was in control. So he made the announcement to the press and sat back.

The room went utterly silent. Gesturing to one side of the conference table, Shuichi pointed their attention to where the new group would be joining them on the podium.

It was only when Yuki Eiri, Seguchi Tohma and an unknown young man stepped up was there the largest rush of flashing cameras and onslaught of questions they'd ever experienced. The reporters had not been expecting this, not so soon after rumours of an argument between the band singer and the writer at the Bad Luck tour launch party. More than anything they were most curious, almost rudely so, about how the band and the writer would be working together. The tension on the stage was quite palpable and the news crews were rabid for details. Uncharacteristically, Seguchi-san remained silent.

Shuichi, all too aware of the writer's presence, lapsed into silence. His stupid control had gone quickly down the damn drain at the first sight of the writer. It wasn't fair! He sat back and, schooling his features into an innocently patient expression, firmly kept his eyes from his ex-boyfriend. The three new comers took their seats and, wonder of wonders, Seguchi Tohma sat back and remained silent. Catching on to his best friend's discomfort when the press turned to the singer for further clarification, Hiro jumped in to break the nervous tension and answer the first question he received.

"I'm not happy with these arrangements," the guitarist admitted, "being Shuichi's best friend and knowing what happened between them. But I am supporting his decision to honour what our label wants of us." He reached over into Shuichi's lap and grasped a trembling hand there, and continued, "We are professionals and we will behave as professionals." Grateful, Shuichi looked up into the warmth shining in his best friend's grey eyes and exchanged a small smile.

Fujisaki Suguru, the clever little rascal, took the opportunity to push the band's image into further positive light. He not only calmly agreed with the guitarist's words, but stood up and served the silent novelist a respectful bow and public apology for the strike he dealt the novelist at NG the month before. There was a murmur of approval throughout the room for the youngest band member's proper and polite behaviour.

All attention turned to the writer to see what the man would do now, the ball in Yuki-san's court.

With solemn sincerity never before witnessed of the normally stoic writer, Yuki Eiri formally accepted Fujisaki's apology. To everyone's shock, Yuki-san also stood and bowed, this time to the quiet singer, and issued a public apology for his infidelity. Without waiting for Shuichi's reply, silently displaying that he did not expect one as a show of his humility, Yuki-san sat back down. And Shuichi was floored.

Yuki apologised? On national TV? It was too strange. But then again, that writer had… something with the press. He just made these random announcements like they weren't of any real consequence when K would shoot for such publicity-worthy fodder.

It was then Seguchi finally took control by introducing the project photographer as the young man with them. Ushizaki Katsuya, a dark haired and grey-eyed slender-built youth who had won a recent NG online photography competition had been given the job. It was here that everyone learned this project had been in the making for some time but the announcement had been held off until he was certain the band was ready.

Amidst the questions and general madness, Shuichi peeked over Hiro's arm resting on the table. His best friend was too tall and too big, so all he could see further along on the table were the writer's pale hands. Those hands remained calmly folded, the grasp tightening occasionally as the press prodded into personal matters. He couldn't see his former lover's face, couldn't see what Yuki was really feeling. He would know, of course, just by looking upon the expression on that mask of a face. He would know the truth. And suddenly he was glad that he was small and that Hiro was blocking the view. This was all for the best.

Right?

Of course, the inevitable eventually happened. Having not been able to get anything beyond a confirmation that Shuichi and Yuki had last spoken at the Bad Luck tour launch party out of the singer, the press therefore re-issued the question to the only other person who could answer.

"I will confirm, as Shindou-san did," said the expressionless Yuki, "that the meeting between us did take place." Shuichi trembled at the words, sensing that more was coming. Hiro's grip tightened in his. "It was a grave miscalculation to initiate such contact to issue an apology." Yuki continued. "I have apologised publicly now, but certainly one mere gesture does not redeem me."

Redeem? Shit. The memories of those touching words echoed in Shuichi's mind. He didn't want to remember those wonderful things Yuki had spoken with such sincerity, the words he had always wanted to hear from his lover. His _ex_ lover… Those words were too good for him now. He took a steadying breath, listening as Yuki paused and he, like the press, waited to hear if the writer had more to say.

Yuki took a breath before adding, "Hopefully, there will be a later opportunities for me to express my… sincerity." As Shuichi reeled, the press pounced.

"Do you plan on winning him back?"

"Will you be spending time with Shindou-sama during the tour?"

"What plans have you made to express this sincerity? Is this in reiteration of your apology?"

Yuki silenced them with an impatient wave of his hand and said, "I am preoccupied enough trying to make the best of the situation and do my job." He frowned as he said, "My relationship with Bad Luck and Shui-- Shindou-san will be as they dictate. I have nothing further to say."

No, don't say that. Just go the hell away or…

Shuichi wanted to scream. He gripped Hiro's hand with both of his and carefully schooled his breathing. I am a professional, he told himself. This was all just part of the job, this was just a press conference. Heck, how many conferences had he done already? This was part of his job and he always did his job well, and he would _not_ fall apart in front of the press. He would be in control and he would stay that way. He gritted his teeth.

To hell with them all.

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Public appearances were one thing in Nakano Hiroshi's book. When you're contracted to one of the biggest empires in the country, you learn proper public conduct pretty fast.

Never mind if your best friend is falling apart, never mind if the man you hate is _right beside you,_ you keep your act together and give that fake smile you'd long ago learned to perfect. Hiro knew that he was needed, that he needed to be strong and he had done his part. But that was this morning and in public. This afternoon and in private, especially at the door of his own home, was quite another matter.

"That hurt," Yuki-san commented dryly, sprawled on the ground before the Bad Luck house front door, clutching his left jaw.

Hiro watched the man's pale hazel eyes blink, the irises skittering a little sideways. Oh, it had felt so _good_ to knock the writer down… He was breathing heavily, fists clenched as he glared at the man at his feet. This bastard was the reason his best friend wasn't whole, the reason Shuichi was so lost and behaving in this strange and secretive manner. The mess of it was driving him up the wall, and it was all because of this damnable man. He wanted to hit Yuki-san again, but he restrained himself and, shaking, hissed,

"What the hell are you doing here? Shuichi could have seen you!"

"He isn't here, Nakano," Carefully getting up, Yuki-san blinked and shook his head as if to clear it, swaying on his feet a little. "He's with my brother."

Hiro narrowed his eyes at the man, momentarily distracted by the idea that Yuki-san had been keeping tabs on Shuichi. He glared through the slits, "he isn't yours anymore."

Finally refocusing, Yuki-san met the guitarist's gaze. "I am worried about him."

Rolling his eyes at the sheer audacity of the man, he snarled, "You bastard, how dare you utter such hypocritical bullshit!"

"Yes, I'm a bastard!" Yuki-san snarled right back. "And this bastard is here to speak with you."

"Me?" Hiro blinked stupidly.

"Yes," the writer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I…" he growled a little, sounding nervous. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and lit it. Taking a long drag on the stick he spoke again. "I want to know about him."

Hiro stared incredulously.

Yuki-san shrugged, continuing, "About his past, what he was like."

Disbelieving the downright lack of shame and complete impudence of the man before him, Hiro turned and retreated into the house, slamming the front door shut behind him. There was no way he was going to even dignify that with a reply.

Yuki-san continued speaking from outside, standing against the door, "I want to know him through your eyes."

Speaking slowly, enunciating each insult carefully, Hiro snarled, "You're a sad and misguided fool, an utterly self absorbed and unrealistic, cold hearted bastard!" He was more annoyed than he could ever have thought possible.

"I know," replied the novelist beyond the door.

Surprised at the admission, Hiro snorted, feeling freshly enraged that the words had had almost no effect on the man.

"When you can spare some time, please call me." Yuki-san sounded weary. "I know that I am asking for something from you and I know it is a favour--"

"I have no reason to do you any favours!"

"You have no reason to help me," the novelist calmly agreed, infuriating the guitarist further.

"Damn right I don't," Hiro scoffed, turning away.

"But you do have a reason to help Shuichi."

He paused at that.

"And I want to help him."

Growling, Hiro snatched the door open and faced the writer once more, "You were the one who started this in the first place!" He could barely restrain his fury, the effort of it contained by the fact he had just broken his promise to Shuichi. He had promised, as had K, Ryuichi and a few other people, to never lay a hand on the writer. He was seeing red, almost dizzy with his rage, as he spoke, "You fucked some whore for physical gratification at the cost of your relationship with one of the most loving and—" he broke off suddenly before continuing with, "And you want to _know him_ through my eyes?!" He shook his head with enraged humour at the idea. "What kind of screwed up fool are you?"

Eiri sighed and looked, if Hiro could believe his eyes, angrily chastised. The writer finally spoke, sounding frustrated and sad,

"There is little I can do to change the past and if you really must vent your anger, wouldn't you feel better pounding the insults into my body because right now, that would be easier to handle."

The implications shut him up. Hiro would not have thought it possible for the writer to be hurt by words. After all, since when did Hiro's words count for anything in the man's mind? He didn't want to know the answer to that. He relaxed a little, some of his anger ebbing away and calmly said, "Get out of here before someone sees you."

There was a flash of hope in those golden eyes, a moment before the novelist politely bowed and left, murmuring, "Thank you for your time, Nakano-san."

Shutting the door, Hiro turned and made his way across the foyer, down the hall and to the room he spent the most time in after the music room in the basement, the recreation room. It was a large and spacious area separated by a wall and door from the living and dining room. In the recreation room were K's fooseball table, Fujisaki's training mat and Hiro's much-needed punch bag. Stripping and warming up, Hiro attacked the bag, losing himself in the effort and in his thoughts.

How _dare_ Yuki-san?

His voice, his inflection, and even his attitude had all changed. There was something about the man now but whatever it was, Hiro believed it would never be enough. Something was seriously wrong with Shuichi now and that man had no business messing it up further. Shuichi was one of _them _and that writer had been trouble and heartache for them all since Day One. If anything, he would do his damnedest to keep the man as far away from his best friend as he possibly could.

Rehabilitation and therapy huh, that would make him a certified nut case, wouldn't it? It just added to the growing list of why they should not be together. He would side with Fujisaki on this one, the notion that something was wrong with Shuichi long before the incident with Yuki. Whatever that reason was, it needed his full attention. It was imperative that they figure things out and get it all sorted because none of them had any idea what else could be done. That was their one avenue of hope at the moment.

And Yuki-san was the other.

Shaking his head, Hiro chuckled humourlessly at his own idiocy. There was no way that man could help Shuichi. Not now, anyway. He could remember the day he stopped believing, stopped knowing that Yuki-san would be enough for Shuichi to quit wasting away. It had been about a month before Shuichi had gotten his act together and stepped back into the media spotlight. Hiro had wanted to give Shuichi a private celebration before the boy disappeared off for his Christmas vacation, and the brat had requested that they stick to tradition: getting gloriously drunk on sake,

"Did you ever think he would come for me?" Shuichi had asked, looking up at the stars from within the bundle of a down-filled quilt. They were sitting outside in the little second floor terrace of the Bad Luck House.

Hiro had snorted, "That idiot had better not or I'll—" Shuichi turned away but he had caught the expression on the boy's face. "You _want_ him to come for you." Hiro half murmured the statement to himself, eyes widening with surprise, the ramifications of that realisation hitting him very hard.

Shuichi turned back to face his best friend, now with a sad but resigned look on his face. He gave a small half-smile, shaking his head a little at his own silliness.

"You do really still love the bastard."

Shuichi smiled that sparkly smile which surfaced only when his guard was weighed down by liquor. His voice was only just laced with his usual melancholy when he piped up with, "Not that it helps any!"

Considering the boy's words, Hiro asked, "Do you want him to come for you?"

Shaking his head though eyes revealed what he truly wanted, the singer stated simply, "He won't."

"Did you never expect him to?" Hiro asked softly, feeling a bit useless knowing he hadn't helped his best friend make progress getting over the man or the betrayal.

Shuichi sighed, turning to look up at the stars again. A soft smile, now dark with anguished resignation, crossed his face as he whispered, "I had hoped he would, that maybe he might think it's his turn…"

-

His turn.

It had always been that way with Shuichi. When he lost his self-belief, there was someone to go fetch him, tell him that it was a temporary feeling, and assure him of his place in people's hearts. The little moppet had only ever needed to matter to those he loved. A friend, a family member, just _someone_ close to him was good. He only needed to know that someone cared, enough to tell him that everything would be alright.

And they had all had their turns, Hiro most of all. Tatsuha, Ryuichi, K and even Fujisaki had come in to share the responsibility. How could they not when Shuichi had been there for them so often in the past two years? By comparison, a pat on the back, a smile, and a little encouragement was very little to ask for in return for all the love and _goodness_ the singer brought into their everyday lives. They had foolishly thought it was enough, that these small gestures would suffice to show the boy that he was exactly where he belonged.

Thumping the bag harder, Hiro considered the possibility that all Shuichi had wanted was for Yuki-san to tell him he belonged; that they belonged together. The novelist had never expressed emotions to Shuichi, he knew that much. So why would that bastard be what Shuichi truly wanted? Why would the man be simply precisely all that Shuichi really wished for? Hiro growled to himself, pausing to hang his arms up on the bag loops for a rest.

He would never understand how Shuichi could never seem to escape that enigmatic novelist.

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(1) White Day is approximately thirty days after Valentine's Day. In Japan, girls give gifts to the boys on Valentine's Day, and the gesture is returned on White Day.

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Please review or comment!


	12. The One Unknown

CHAPTER 12

The One Unknown

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Eiri scowled as he distractedly transferred a stack of neatly folded shirts from a box into his suitcase. 

He glanced about his spacious bedroom, the second largest room of the apartment. It was nicely furbished and very comfortable. He almost didn't mind how he was sacrificing the master bedroom's spacious and luxurious features. Tatsuha had not questioned his actions, not mentioned anything when Eiri insisted on this room and in using the hall bathroom instead of the larger en-suite in the master room. The young monk had silently accepted his older brother's eccentricities.

Having outright purchased this rather large, four-room penthouse, Eiri felt he'd made a great investment. It was in a respectable and up-market location with great leisure amenities and even better security. He liked how big the place was since he usually, more often than not, spent his non-writing time wandering about his personal space. Best of all, this building had a little commercial section downstairs where he could dine, shop, or have his dry-cleaning done. Now, he would no longer be obliged to brave Tokyo traffic or crowds to run errands. It was furnished with minimalist pieces, all ordered from one of Tohma's artistic friends, Antonio Layug (1). The stylish, dark-finish furniture was made of various combinations of six materials: glass, wicker, bamboo, leather, paper and steel.

When he bought the place, he'd had the notion that buying a property would give him a sense of having a home, having something truly _his_ and of regaining control. It also signified a new chapter in his life, of quitting his play boy ways for good. He'd quit before but he had only let go of it gradually, like a fading habit. That had been because Shuichi had taken up his time and demanded his attention. This time, and without the brat's prodding, he had made this conscious decision.

The 'moving on' bit worked, however the 'home' did not. Shuichi was his home, and that brat was not here filling in the gaps of the huge place as the boy had once done with his heart. He hoped the singer would do so again, and also fill this particular vacant space.

Hearing a loud thump, Eiri was drawn away from his musings.

"You'd better not have broken anything!" the writer yelled, leaving his repacking and moving out into the hall. Tatsuha was further down the hall on the left, in the master bedroom setting down an armful of boxes. The writer could see his brother's penmanship on the sides, spelling out, 'Shu'. Of the pile in Tatsuha's arms, the top-most box had toppled over onto the floor and, recognising it, Eiri stepped forward, growling, "Can't you be more careful?"

"There's probably nothing even in there," argued the monk, "It sounds empty!"

Snatching up the box, Eiri left Tatsuha to moving in the rest of Shuichi's belongings. He marched back into his room and shut the door behind himself. Setting the box down on his desk, Eiri carefully peeled back the tape and removed a long tissue- wrapped bundle. Carefully peeling the layers away, he pulled out eighteen stiff dried roses, now white with brown edges. They were the flowers from Shuichi's Valentine's Day bouquet to him, perfectly preserved. He slipped them into a tall, minimalist glass vase he'd earlier set on his bedside table and stepped back to admire the effect.

The flowers really had been from Shuichi after all. He still remembered how puzzled he had been that day, to receive such a familiar bouquet and without a card. But recently, after days of holding off, a quick call to Miho-san, the florist who handled all of his love's contracts, had confirmed his suspicions.

Eiri had been polite to the florist and even left his new address with the kindly old man, just in case. Miho-san was one person who counted on his side, who believed that he and Shuichi belonged together. He was not about to toss out an ally… never mind the man knew next to nothing about him or the truth. It was rather pathetic, clinging to a virtual stranger, but in a way he felt it was a connection to his former lover. He now gave the florist quite a bit of business, most recently sending flowers to his sister, his editor, and Aku's girlfriend, Kaoru.

And, no, it was not coincidence that every time he called to give Miho-san work, the man liked to tell him about Shuichi's calls and visits. Talks between them flowed easily on a mutually familiar topic, the old florist absently babbling while Eiri subtly prodded the man along.

Apparently, the pop star had been 'kissing up' to a few executives, producers and reporters. It seemed like the brat was building his own network out of that damn florist's shop! To hear the brat, the messy and disorganised lover he knew, was in touch with some of the most influential figures in his industry puzzled Eiri. He had not known how cleverly sincere the boy could be, making friends left, right and centre. Knowing Shuichi, he probably believed these people really were true friend material, ignoring the evident plastic expressions and fawning.

It made him envious. Jealous, even, that these unworthy people were receiving attention from Shuichi. He remembered how he used to take up all the kid's time, how the singer had spent so much time at home trying to get closer to him… and not out with other people. Miho-san didn't always remember the full details of everything that Shuichi had asked him to do, but the dictated script for the accompanying cards always included a 'thank you' for this and that. Interviews, meetings, and various other things, these obvious consumers of Shuichi's time annoyed Eiri to no end. Those people had a part of the pop star now that he had taken for granted.

Snarling to himself, he set aside packing for the tour to wander back into the master bedroom. Tatsuha was not around, probably off to fetch more boxes from the freight elevator.

Eiri glared at the big new bed in which no one was to sleep and his thoughts turned to fix on yesterday's NG press conference. He'd been far too aware of Shuichi sitting just along the table, keenly conscious that the boy would be hearing every word he uttered. Enduring that had really strained him, had really stressed him out. The pressure continued to mount as he became more and more aware that the tour book's official announcement marked his first move in accepting his own challenge. There would be no backing out now, and he was looking forward to his self-declared battle with a relish he had not felt in years.

This was what it all came down to, his plan finally being put into action. Although, the incident with Hiro had not gone very well.

Frowning, Eiri considered his own request of the guitarist. He knew he had been almost rudely brazen with such a plea, but really the worst the man could do to him was turn him down. There were just so many things he didn't know about Shuichi. Now this uphill climb would be doubly difficult without hearing how much and in what ways the boy had changed. Hiro was his key to the boy's past, the one who could fill him in on all the things he ought to already know. It didn't miss his attention that had he just listened to his lover in the first place, he would probably not be in this mess to begin with. Paying attention would have alerted him to things being wrong before they became full-fledged problems.

Whatever.

He needed to deal with it. He knew the tour would be when crunch time really began. Because if uncovering the past was difficult, it was nothing compared to the present and the future. He could hazard a pretty intelligent guess that as each day went by, Shuichi's love for him would be hardening into hatred. And yes, he knew that the boy still cared. The expression in his love's eyes that day at the Hotel Intercontinental was quite enough to go by.

He had already been to Tohma but the man would not budge, the only options left to Eiri were the band and his own sister. He needed to know because not knowing made him nervous. He could not afford to second guess himself now when he had such a goal ahead of him. He really had no choice but to aim for what he knew would be the best source, punches and insults be damned. He would need to put everything he learned to damn good use or he would not accomplish even half of what he was setting out to do.

Grumbling a little as he tore his glare away from the large king bed, he glanced about the sparsely furnished room and scowled. There was nothing in here from the old apartment except for Shuichi's things and even those were still boxed. His brother had packed them, as the writer had been unable to bring himself to do so. Yuki was determined the room remain empty save for those boxes, the new furniture, and the new sheets he had purchased for the new bed.

Just as a certain space in Eiri's heart was reserved for the little singer.

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Sighing with relief, Shuichi nodded to K and settled back into his seat.

The Fukushima Concert hall dressing room was all his and his alone. He would be safe for a little longer. It was only the first day of the tour, the band having departed Tokyo only this morning, but Shuichi was dreading having to face Yuki. It would have to happen eventually, he realised that now, hopes of having his band mates run interference for the whole tour had evaporated soon after they'd arrived. Yuki was in the middle of everything, there was no way he could be avoided for a whole tour. Shuichi could settle for having this one day to himself, however, and tomorrow could wait. Besides, his two band mates derived a nasty sort of amused relish from keeping the novelist away. It was K who seemed to think the matter was as far from humorous as possible.

"You will have to face him sooner or later, you know," said the gunman, giving him that 'look' again, the one that said 'you are being unreasonable and you know it' look which Shuichi really disliked. "We have more important things to attend to and this is not helping smooth matters over." Shuichi waved his thanks as K, with a nod, disappeared out the door to leave him some time to prepare for tonight's concert.

The singer didn't want to be a bother, and knew he would just have to get used to Yuki being around or he would continue to be one. If he didn't, the tour would be made to be even more unpleasant that it was already bound to become. He didn't like to consider his feelings on the matter very much, they confused him. He preferred to keep things out of his mind and simply concentrate on what was before him, take things a day at a time and not think about the past.

Or the future.

It was just simpler that way, and didn't apply too much pressure around his heart. With a sigh, he realised that he needed to find a middle ground of some sort. He couldn't keep letting his mind wander back to the memories of catching Eiri in the bedroom of their home, seeing that mussed bed and red dress. Or keep letting his chest ache in remembrance of the pain. He wished he could forget, and his desire for control manifested itself in the strangest ways.

He never wore red anymore, for one. Sometimes, he even disliked looking at Tasuki's hair for the simple matter that it recalled the image of betrayal to his mind. It wasn't his friend's fault, it was just another bad memory trigger. Shuichi's mobile phone rang out, a thin tune of Rage Beat, and he pulled it off the dressing room desk. Glancing at the ID on the screen, he though, speak of the Devil…

"Hey, Taz!"

"Hey, Shuichi!" Tasuki greeted cheerfully, his tone light and easy as always. "How's it going?"

"In the dressing room, you caught me at a good time, though. " He smiled a little, feeling good now he could talk to someone who was not going to give him shit about whether or not he was avoiding his ex. "How was your show?"

"I think I ought to be asking you that, buddy," the dancer observed with a chuckle. "But all's good. Last night's crowd was great! We did our routine and got a great response. That one-handed manoeuvre you suggested really did wrap things up nicely…" Shuichi listened to his friend tell him about the performance.

Suzumiya Tasuki and his troop were participating in a series of club dance-off competitions, just for the fun of it, and had been talking about it for weeks. The series was an on-going 'Challenge the Winner' format over a nine-show run. It might have seemed petty or uninteresting, such a small-time gig, but not to them. Shuichi might be a well-known singer and Tasuki more of a 'part-time hobbyist' dancer, the two shared a love for performing that could not be disguised. Small time or big time, the resulting satisfaction was always the same.

"I'm glad it's going well!" Shuichi exclaimed, happy to hear his friend had won yet another round. "So this racks up, what? Three wins now?"

"Yeah, it does!" Tasuki whooped. "We're all still pretty juiced after last night. The fifth show is next week and Maiko's already got dibs on one of our club passes."

"Maiko's still hanging around you guys?" Shuichi asked, incredulous. He had introduced his sister to Tasuki and his troupe about six weeks before, along with her then-accompanying cronies Haruhi, Maiko and Tamaki. They had all gone out to a club that night, gotten happily tipsy and had a great time. Maiko had also taken an instant taking to Tasuki's buddy, Akito, as had Akito to her.

"Yep!" Tasuki confirmed. "Those two," he stressed the words meaningfully, "Are seeing so much of each other they're joined at the hip when Mai-chan isn't in school."

"I'd have thought those two would be sick of each other by now, they don't match!" Shuichi muttered, feeling an unfamiliar protectiveness well up within him. Where was this Akito from, anyway? What was his family like…?

"You're one to talk!" Hooted Tasuki, chuckling. He challenged, "How much did you and your ex match?"

"Yeah, yeah," Shuichi replied vaguely, grumbling.

"How are things on that frontier?"

"I've been avoiding the certain blonde novelist guy what's his name…" Shuichi sighed. What was it he was thinking about getting away from thoughts of Yuki?

"'What's his name?'" Tasuki repeated, laughing. "It can't be so bad you'd extend to not even saying his name…!" the laughter cut off abruptly when he lowered his voice and asked suddenly, "He's not bothering you or stalking you, is he?"

"No!" Shuichi hurried to reply. "It's nothing like that. He's not pressing me at all. I haven't spoken to him once since the tour began, in fact…"

"Maybe that's the problem."

"I don't want to talk about this," the singer said warningly.

"Well, it's what I'm interested in at the moment." Tasuki admitted. "I'm just worried about you, you know?"

"I know." Shuichi sat back in his seat.

"Hey, Shu…" Tasuki suddenly sounded mischievous. "Did you listen to the CD I gave you?"

"Oh, yeah!" Shuichi grinned. This was just the kind of distraction he had been hoping for.

Tasuki had given him a CD of easy to pronounce English songs, ones that had nice meanings and a good beat, which didn't require a skilled mouth to sing. The dancer had been translating the lyrics for him, explaining the language along the way and tutoring Shuichi a little. It was fun to learn English through music, and Shuichi wondered why he had not thought of this before. He was very glad now that he could read the English alphabet despite not understanding, it was still helping him on his way to grasping this new horizon of sound opening up to him.

"So what did you think?"

"There was this one called 'Incomplete' that I thought was great, but I want to fix the lyrics a bit." Shuichi said, excited to talk about his favourite topic. "It seems like it would be a whole lot darker and selfish if I change a few things."

"I was thinking that one might catch your attention." Tasuki laughed. "It's by the Backstreet Boys. I don't like them so much, but I figured you would like the sound of that song."

"Yeah," he agreed. "They don't sing with much heart, but the words on this track were pretty good." Shuichi knew he could get a little too passionate about his music, but he hated it when other artists didn't sing the words with feeling when the song was so obviously good. They talked a little more about English. Shuichi hammered out the changes he wanted to make, with Tasuki correcting him on his articles and pronouns along the way. Soon, they hung up, and Shuichi found himself feeling so much better.

By now, the ground beneath his feet rumbled distantly from the pressure of the thousands of fans making their way into the concert venue. He knew he really ought to be outside talking to Yuki, telling the writer how it felt to be here and about to perform, giving a running commentary on what it was like to do what he did… Repeating all the things he had told his lover over the two years they had been together, and which Yuki had _never_ listened to…

He was bitter, he knew that. But, with a groan, he realised he was right back where he started… though after his talk with Tasuki, in a better frame of mind.

It was just that it was taking a paycheque for that writer to finally listen to him and he really, _really_ hated it. He wanted to believe that Yuki was not capable of meaning all the things he had said, not after the history they'd shared and after what the man had done--

Cutting off his train of thought, knowing it was not going anywhere, he decided he needed to talk to Tohma.

Sighing, he resumed focus. Rubbing at his forehead and singing a little to himself in English, Shuichi turned to dress. He was already feeling the unstoppable rise of adrenaline coming on, the makings of a perfect escape from these painful thoughts. His body seemed to know it would soon be time to drown in endorphins, as it did when he became a conduit for the music. His senses were already focusing, narrowing down on that muted hum in the back of his head. The beat in his head seemed to echo the rhythm the crowds unknowingly pounded into the venue structure, which Shuichi could feel mutely reverberating up his feet. When he was dressed, he opened his door and a crew hand immediately came over.

"Are you ready for make-up, Shuichi?" She was a regular and had been on his last tour. Like the other regulars, she addressed him by his first name as he insisted.

"Yes, I am!" He smiled at her and she returned it then nodded before turning to find a make-up attendant.

Paused in the doorway, Shuichi glanced about watching the backstage commotion; people running around to complete last minute details, in this final hour before show time. Amidst the movement, there stood a distinctive figure, and the singer recognised the posture before he'd even noticed the blonde hair. The writer was standing against a scaffold support of the stage backdrop, notepad in hand, furiously scribbling. Katsuya was talking into his ear, gesticulating with excitement, a huge grin on his face. The photographer made to leave Yuki, camera in hand, and as his eyes lifted, he caught sight of Shuichi. The singer waved in a friendly manner then beckoned, and Katsuya came jogging over.

"I'm about to have my make-up done," Shuichi explained. "Do you want to shoot that?"

"Cool!" Katsuya declared, and slipped past into the dressing room when Shuichi held the door open wider in invitation. "This is my first time doing paid photography work, and it's so great to have this job right when I graduated! And to go on tour, it's just amazing…" The young man babbled a bit, talking about what a great opportunity this was for him, and Shuichi listened. He was careful to concentrate on the photographer, whose happy rambles made him smile and distracted him from his musings. He could barely contain his own building excitement. But that was until Katsuya's speech made a segue into talk about working with the great Yuki-sama,

"You know, it's amazing how professional he is in spite of everything. You know Bad Luck's fans are upset that he's with you on tour? He even had to move house to deal with the public hate problems!" Katsuya deftly caught the iced tea Shuichi tossed his way. "And the tour crew people, they've been throwing him dirty looks all day, and being unhelpful and uncooperative…"

Shuichi considered the pre-tour meeting, when K had announced the last minute details that everyone needed to know before the trucks all made their way out to Fukushima. K had explained the writing project and told the crew to be civil to Yuki, had asked them to give their effort toward this project because the book would be a great source of publicity. Never mind that the man was Bad Luck enemy number one.

A few had grumbled about it, but no one had complained, and Shuichi had given little thought to the matter again. He had been too busy trying to avoid his former lover to notice how things had been for the writer since. He frowned a little, absently listening to Katsuya move on to how much he was looking forward to the rest of the tour.

Shuichi's thought were still on Yuki, and he wondered if things were really so bad. If the short-tempered author he loved was really being treated as poorly as Katsuya said, wouldn't he be snarling and complaining?

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Fujisaki Suguru was enjoying a little chat with Hiro about one of the songs to be performed that evening, when he spied Mr K making a zero-in on their coordinates. In the questionably compassionate company of his band, the American snarled,

"Damn roadies! What the hell is so difficult about doing your job?" The two musicians raised their eyebrows at him, keeping silent, familiar with the gunman's style of ranting about the rest of his responsibilities. "All they have to do is make a little time and answer the man's questions! Is that so hard?" He glared at the two young men, who caught on to the subject of K's rant and suddenly looked rather indifferent.

"I am not going to offer you a sympathetic ear on this matter," Suguru warned, eyes narrowing. Beside him, Hiro's left eye twitched; the eye that always betrayed the guitarist's disdain.

"Don't tell me I have to take this shit from the two of you, as well!" K hissed, eyes spitting sapphire sparks. "It's bad enough the rest of the crew are giving him such a hard time, I don't need to go soothing your egos on top of everyone else's!" Their manager swept away, pulling his gun out as he grumbled, making people scramble out of his way.

Suguru met Hiro's gaze for a moment, simultaneously mollified by the knowledge that though they were avoiding the writer like the plague, the man had been getting his due. Well, in Suguru's opinion, Yuki-san had been bashed enough by the nation's press. But he considered things carefully, finding K's words believabe.

No one spoke to Yuki Eiri unless absolutely necessary or when the man cornered them. No one helped him with his luggage and no one had attended to or been hospitable to him since they'd arrived. The crew's females ignored him which, Suguru supposed now that he thought about it, was really strange. They were normally scrambling over themselves to get near the famous author, fawning and begging for autographs. Ah, but that was back when Yuki had still been the golden boy, attending concerts to support Shuichi as a lover.

If you could even have called it support… If Suguru remembered correctly, Yuki-san stuck around long enough only to tell Shuichi that he looked like a painted doll, smelled funny and that he was an idiot. All before he escaped out to the VIP section and left them all with an emotionally-smashed little singer to deal with. He and Hiro had become exceptional pep talkers now, thanks to that man's thoughtless comments.

He did not want to have to deal with that shit again.

Today, he was glad that, from where he and Hiro stood, they were in a perfect watch-out position. They could keep out of the crew's way, but maintain both Shuichi's dressing room and that damn writer in sight.

Suguru watched the writer, noting the seemingly easy posture and impassive expression, but glimpsing a little of the nervous tension visible just below the surface. Yuki-san appeared to be simply watching everything, leaving the friendly chattering to his photographer. But he did glance about carefully and quickly, surreptitious glances that clued Suguru in to the fact the writer was quite an observant individual. The pen in his hand almost never ceased moving, his note-taking constantly in progress, his observations going straight to paper. Yuki-san didn't try to talk to anyone, but it was quite likely he would get the full story from Katsuya later anyway. That teen was all over the place!

Watching, the keyboardist frowned when he realised that aside from stepping around the man as though he were an obstacle, no one paid him any attention at all. Positive attention, that is.

Thinking back, he realised that the crew might have been picking up a lot of negativity off him and Hiro, and were likely following suit. Conversations had a habit of pausing when Yuki-san walked by, cold stares were often thrown his way, and occasionally people handling odd or heavy objects would 'accidentally' bump into him. Suguru wondered, with a little impartiality, why the normally irritable and demanding writer put up with the unfriendly treatment. Noticing his stare, a crew man approached.

"Do we really have to put up with him?"

"Unfortunately, we do," Suguru replied, "It's our job." He shrugged, his last phrase making perfect sense to him. He knew this particular crew member understood him. This crewman had been one of the most distant of all the roadies until Shuichi had explained that Suguru really believed in being a professional and doing one's job. Suguru didn't like it that the singer had told the roadies that this proper behaviour counted as 'normal' and that they should cut the keyboardist some slack, but the explanation had turned the staff's attitudes toward him into something approaching friendly.

"We could always make him… leave," the man said suggestively, expression pointed.

"My cousin would be disappointed if that were to happen," he mourned, shoulders slumping a little as he felt a genuine flash of impotent hostility for the novelist. The crewman laughed heartily and slapped the synth-master companionably on his shoulder before heading back to work.

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Eiri leaned into a darkened corner out of the way, watching the chaos. From his vantage point he had a good view of almost the entire main back stage area.

From this main area, halls branched out to access halls and offices, and dressing rooms. Shuichi had just stepped out from one of the halls, talking animatedly to Katsuya. The roadies and crew, winding down now that the show was to start soon, waved and greeted the singer. He noticed that all these faces he normally saw frowning or glowering, had happy and warm expressions now that the 'show leader' was before them. It annoyed him to see the nasty little roadies all touchy-feely with his love, these same people who had been giving him as hard a time as possible all day.

Eiri watched the singer gather people to himself, chatting to high-paying backstage guests, tech crew and other staff. Seeing the commotion around the band front man, he realised how true it was that Shuichi ran the show. He really was the most irreplaceable person of the entire affair. If Hiro or Fujisaki were ill or temporarily unavailable, there were always back up musicians to fill in. The rest of the tour crew were even more disposable and even K could be done without. But Shuichi, he was the face of Bad Luck and ultimately the most well known member of the group. His song writing, voice and presence accounted for the greater portion of the band's existence and continued success.

Frowning, he realised he had never quite thought of it that way. He was both impressed with the singer… and regretful for having belittle the boy so much in the past. As he mulled over this, K suddenly appeared from one of the side hallways, waving his gun and bellowed,

"Bad Luck, prepare for take off, you've got half an hour!"

The trio excused themselves from their respective conversations, and moved to an out of the way corner where some instruments had been set up. There, Hiro plucked up his guitar and plugged it into a boom box, slipping on a headset, to run through his chords. Fujisaki also pulled on a headset, plugging into a spare keyboard set out for this purpose, to warm up. But what really caught and held his attention was Shuichi.

The singer was fidgety. An unfamiliar serious expression on Shuichi's face announced his focus, how he was tuning out everything but his own inner music. He bounced around a little in place, keeping his heart rate up, body warm and joints flexed. He hummed a little, sang a few bars here and there before moving to work with his trainer, stretching out and getting stretched out.

There was one particular move that startled Eiri above the rest:

The trainer turned to press his back to Shuichi's and hooked each arm under the singer's at either side. Bending himself forward, the trainer pulled Shuichi onto his own back which pulled the singer into a full-body arch that lifted him clear off the ground. Even from where he stood, Eiri could hear the cringe-worthy snapping of a realigning spine. After a series of lunges, Shuichi sat to rotate his feet, to warm up his ankles and tendons. In this position, as one hand attended to the stretches, the other plugged one of his ears and he ran through his vocal scales.

Eiri was incredibly impressed. This was a side of Shuichi he had neither witnessed before nor even imagined. Well, the boy had done some serious growing up lately so he shouldn't be surprised that—

"Does he always do that?" A nearby crew member, obviously new, was speaking to one of the set-up supervisors. She gestured to Shuichi, "The warm ups and stuff, does he always do that?" The writer cocked his head to listen in on the conversation.

"Ever since his first performance, before every single performance," confirmed the man, obviously liking the attention the young woman was paying him. "But you should see him right before he goes on stage. Now _that_ is amazing to watch, some of us gather at pre-stage just to see it."

Eiri tuned the rest of it out, realising he had never stayed backstage like this before. In the past, he'd been unable to tolerate the fuss of last-minute preparations and flurry of activity, not realising he was missing out on observing this aspect of his former lover.

He wondered how much else was there he never knew about the man who had loved him, about the man he loves…

--

The thirty minutes went by quickly and Eiri found himself trying to squeeze himself into a good corner to catch the band before they went on stage. He wanted to catch what the crew supervisor had indicated as a must-see. It must have been a popular thing for the back stage crew to watch because there was a crowd building at the side entrance. Luckily, having not had anything better to do, Eiri had snatched himself a prime spot before everyone else had finished with work and begun to gather.

When the opening band, Jubilee, trooped off stage amidst screams from the crowd, a pair of hosts came up on stage to promote the tour side-gimmicks. During this, Eiri watched as the opening group flocked around Bad Luck. The vocalist, a slender young girl with blonde-dyed brown hair happily dashed over to Shuichi and accosted him in a friendly hug. Eiri recognised her from the Valentine's Day concert.

"Shuichi!" She exclaimed excitedly when she stepped back, "What did you think?"

"You guys were great, Shizune-chan!" Shuichi smiled back at her, his eyes strangely bright. "I could hear the crowds."

Shizune must have found the expression in the singer's eyes as strange as Eiri did because she suddenly frowned a little at him. Hiro adjusted his guitar out of the way, stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. Smiling, he assured her,

"Don't worry, he's just excited to get on stage." The guitarist nodded to the others behind her. "You guys just haven't seen us about to take the stage before, that's all. This is normal." Collecting their lead singer, the group moved to one side, maintaining curious expressions.

Eiri was even more mystified now, observing how Hiro and Fujisaki arranged themselves around their singer as though fencing him off from the people gathered. The stage hands and crew, though, seemed familiar with this and kept away from the little barricade. On stage, the MCs were winding down. A stage manager by the side-entrance covered the mouthpiece of his headset, turning to hiss,

"One minute!"

Around him, silence descended, and Eiri glanced about, startled. His eyes snapped to Shuichi, who he suddenly did not recognise. He was dimly aware that the group, Jubilee, were being hushed by a few waiting crew.

The hosts made the mistake of saying the words 'Bad Luck' before they were ready to call the band on stage, and the crowds drowned out the rest of the announcements. The screaming itself seemed to become a beat, a shaking rhythm that possessed the little singer. Raptly, he watched Shuichi's eyes darken into a deep purple shade, a colour deeper than he had ever seen of those eyes before. Shaking, the tension in the singer's small body built until Eiri's thoughts recalled the line 'contents under pressure'. Hiro and Suguru watched just as carefully and, as though an invisible cue had been issued, they reached out and each laid a hand on the boy. Hiro's rested on the singer's lower back, Fujisaki's settled on a slim shoulder.

The touches seemed to calm Shuichi. Slowly, the shivering eased until the singer was bouncing in place, but his eyes continued to darken until the writer could see they had turned almost black. The screaming of the audience had reached a crescendo and the shaking in his small body had reached a nervous state. But instead of over-loading as Eiri suspected the singer might, something seemed to snap in Shuichi and he smiled.

Eiri gasped.

There on the singer's face, was the sweetest, most purely joyous smile he had ever witnessed. Shuichi's eyes, a sparkling shade of grey-purple were clear and open, as innocently bright as a child's. Eiri had never, in all the time he had been with the singer, seen such an expression of unadulterated delight; not when they went on dates or even when they'd made love…

"Here they are, ladies and gentleman, BAD LUCK!!"

The bright stage lights died, plunging everything into suddenly deep darkness. Only the pale blue guide lights on the stage were there to allow the band members to find their places. The audience screamed, if it were possible, even louder. The trio swept past, Eiri keenly aware of their presence despite his eyes not having adjusted. When the music rose, the lights suddenly brightened, sweeping across the stage and over the audience, the roar of the crowds rising to a deafening volume. The beat pounded and the show began…

"Wow…" Whispered Shizune, awed. "I've never seen Shuichi-senpai like that!"

"Amazing, huh?" One of the crew friendly asked as he passed. The singer nodded, wide eyed, before she and her group moved along with everyone else.

Eiri remained frozen, the crew dispersing, their own private show over. The writer was left to his thoughts, his mind having memorised that expression, the image warming his heart. He had never really seen anything like it, never thought that something like it could exist. It was beautiful. Shuichi was beautiful, and it made his heart ache tenderly to know the boy was still capable of such innocent passion. It was the music, he understood that. It boggled his mind, the thought that Shuichi had, time and time again, sacrificed music to be with him, to spend time with and heal him. If music was capable of bringing out such a side of Shuichi, what potential had there been in his relationship with the brat that he had not ever realised?

The boy had loved him as much as music, he had grasped that much. But his comprehension of the quality and depth of that feeling was only now dawning on him, the potential astounding. Dear Gods, what had he done?

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(1) Antonio "Budji" Layug (An-toh-ni-yo Bood-jee La-yoog) really does make the furniture described and I am, needless to say, a huge fan. See why at BUDJI dot COM (FF site won't let me put a weblink)

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PLEASE, FEED(back) ME!!


	13. Who He Is

Chapter 13

Who he is

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They made it to Aomori, their fourth concert venue, with two days to set up.

The Fukushima concert four days behind them, the Iwate event was two days ago, and they were comfortably on schedule. They were now a full week into the tour.

It was cold, here to the north of Japan. After the concert, they would be boarding a ferry to take them up to the island of Hokkaido for their fifth show. The band would be flying back to Tokyo from there for a week-long break while the equipment was transported back down toward Tokyo. From there, they would proceed south, continuing on their way with the rest of the tour.

Aomori was known for its academic facilities, having ties with Hungary and Korea. As the buses moved slowly, the streets crawling with students had Shuichi thinking a lot about how he had been in school. He reflected on his dreams, his goals and how it had all come out. There was a balance in his life, a certain kind of fairness he'd never realized. He'd been a happy go lucky type, always certain that things would work out, and in a way, they had because his dreams of hitting musical stardom were very much a reality.

However, he had also paid the price for his fame both publicly and privately. He sighed, his thoughts inevitably turning toward the man he loved. Having never really considered needing to be in a relationship until much later on his senior year of school, was it really surprising the fates decided on that angle to balance out his karma? He was so lucky to have Hiro, Fujisaki and everyone at NG, it made sense that his love life would suffer.

Just as how he had lived a relatively balanced life, one almost too good to be true, he would have to pay for that with his… condition. It was fair; the Gods were fair.

Just then, the tour buses pulled up in formation at the concert hall and everyone got busy setting up for the show. Fujisaki and Hiro went with the lighting and sound crew, and Shuichi went to help the crew assistants and make-up ladies. This was habit for all of them, and they knew where they belonged, people functioning together and around each other effectively like a well oiled machine. They belonged here, all of them. And Shuichi liked to belong. He liked having his circle of friends, the people who cared, and the feeling of being in a place where he would never be left alone. He had his place here with these people he knew and could trust.

But Yuki did not belong here. The writer had been polite, remained unobtrusive, a silent observer during setup and breakdown. He'd stayed away and let Shuichi be; they had never spoken to each other over the course of the week past. Hiro and Suguru had been hoping Yuki would make scene and give them some excuse to kick his ass, but nothing had happened.

The writer did his job and did it well.

Katsuya liked to tell everyone what the writer was working on and how great things were going for the book, he being the only one Yuki really spoke to. The photographer acted like as a mediator, sharing stories with Yuki from the roadies, and sharing with the roadies what Yuki said or did with the input. The writer himself preferred to remain the observant shadow, and as far as Shuichi was concerned, there had only been a few awkward eyes-meeting moments. Usually, they both avoided each other and with both sides employing the same tactics, it had been easy enough to maintain the distance.

But that, Shuichi decided as he helped move in, joking with the crew, and generally making everyone laugh, was about to change. When things had been unpacked and he was no longer really needed, Shuichi excused himself and went to find the writer.

It was time to set the pace for how the rest of the tour would be. He was through being a problem for K and his band mates. And it would not do for Yuki to be bullied and given a hard time. He had seen over the course of the week how people treated the writer, and he did not like it.

He wanted this tour to be what it was supposed to be: immense fun. He could admit to himself that despite the betrayal, he still cared for his former lover. He liked it that the man had made the effort, had apologised and continued to not pressure him despite the intentions he had outlined. And he also did like it that he had Yuki here with him on tour… despite the fact the writer was being paid to be there. Setting the lingering bitterness aside, it all secretly made him a little happy and it was time to make this easy for everyone.

No one expected him to go looking for Yuki.

Most had contributed to keeping the writer as far away from him as possible. So it was to be expected that when he asked after the novelist, more than a few people gave him odd looks, asked him if he was alright, or if he was certain he was doing the right thing. Eventually someone explained they had assigned the writer an 'out of the way' office room at the back of the concert hall.

_Damn it_, he thought, weaving his way past boiler and storage rooms, _not even Yuki deserved this kind of treatment_.

He approached the office door hesitantly, wary that the lack of hospitality might have put the novelist in an even more sour mood than usual. Hand poised over the door, he was just about to knock when he heard Yuki's voice speaking from inside,

"I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I don't know him, that I never really knew him, and you tell me to 'calm down'?" There was a pause, and Shuichi realised Yuki must have been on the phone.

"No, it doesn't change how I feel for him." Shuichi wondered who it was the writer was talking TO and most especially who they were talking ABOUT. He wondered if it was he they spoke of and really, who else was there for Yuki to consider his feelings for? Shuichi frowned.

"No," said the writer, then a few moments later he vehemently repeated, "No!" Yuki sounded exasperated. "I am NOT hesitating! Quit trying to piss me off, Agatsuma-sensei. It's just that the things I know about him don't apply and it… it worries me…"

Worries? Shuichi was puzzled, Agatsuma-san? That name sounded awfully familiar… He turned his head and leaned in, bringing his ear closer to the door to hear the conversation a little better.

"There must be so much more to him that I have no idea about. All the things he told me that I hardly listened to." There was a nervous pause, a sound of a loud huff, before he spoke again, "I like it." The singer leaned in to listen some more. "I said: I like what I see." There was a scoff then Yuki ordered, "Don't laugh!"

Even from outside the door, Shuichi could hear the faint rumble of the writer's grumbling before Yuki said, "I like seeing all these different sides to Shuichi, knowing there is more to him than I thought. I like… him. But it's just difficult to deal with him now not knowing the rules."

Shuichi smiled a little to himself, immensely pleased. It warmed him to know how Yuki felt, to hear these words he would have never imagined he would. Shuichi stood still, remembering Yuki's attempts to ask for him back, remembering the looks he had caught the writer throwing his way since the tour began.

But …the smile slipped off his face…this was not how things were supposed to go. That damnable writer was messing everything up again…

Originally, back when he and Yuki were still together, he had lied to protect his lover. After the betrayal, he had intended to go further and cut his ex completely out of his life, still wanting to spare Yuki despite the fact they were no longer a couple. Now, however, with him having no intention of taking his lover back, things were really on a different playing field. He was entitled to live his life the way he wanted now, and to keep secrets if he so pleased. There was no need for him to explain himself to Yuki anymore, no need to feel guilty! Since Shuichi could never, and would never, accept a relationship with the novelist again, they could move past that as the adults and professionals they were. What was in the past could darn well stay there.

Right?

Heart eased, warmed by Yuki's words, he felt a lot of his anger and bitterness slip away. He decided it would be mature of him to want to move past everything. Maybe… just maybe, friendship really would be a good place to be. There would be nothing more, he reminded himself, and he would just have to push those fantasies out of his mind. His illness was something separate of this decision.

He realised that compartmentalising things like so in his mind gave him a better perspective. Friendship could quite possibly work!

Keh.

Shuichi turned away from the door, not wanting to hear more though his heart ached to listen further. It was enough that he now planned to cave in and offer up a truce. But, he decided, it could wait until later when he was certain he could hide his smile. Anyway, he had to come up with a plan. The writer should not learn he was taking Yuki's suggestion about starting over as friends.

The man had this nasty habit of being way too smug when told he was right.

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Fujisaki Suguru liked being a well-known pop star.

His popularity meant people recognised him, did nice things for him and let him get away with a few things. People generally wanted to be his friend.

He had long ago realised that it was this status which had contributed to paving the path for his cousin Tohma when the man had built NG Productions. Networking was easy when people always remembered you and, better yet, where and when you met. They had to, in order to remind you and claim association… or when the media asked for quotes or interviews.

Unfortunately, like tonight, he rued his own stardom. He had to when he was on the sticky and dirty floor of the little nightclub having been tossed to the ground by some bad-ass homophobic delinquents out to pick a fight. Some fight it would be, he thought, when they were all at least eight inches taller than both he and Shuichi.

"Leave him alone!" Shuichi yelled, jumping back up to his feet and stepping between Suguru and the thug who'd knocked them down. The singer was stupidly coming to Suguru's defence when he himself had just been struck and should know better. Suguru was a little worried. The little vocalist would get himself into bigger trouble and be hurt then what would become of the tour?

"Get out of the way, Shuichi!" Suguru got to his feet and pulled Shuichi back. Shit, where was Hiro? "Let's just do as the men say and get out of here."

"No, they are NOT right!" the singer argued, ignoring the glares of the three hoodlums before them. "I'm the only one who's been involved with a man but they're picking on you!" Shuichi turned to the leader goon, the one who had struck Suguru. "And we have every right to be here if we want to, we're just patrons like you are!"

"You celebrity cock-sucker, get the fuck out of my face!" With that disgusted snarl, the man pulled his fist back in a wind up to strike. But from one side, a hand snaked out and caught the thug's arm. In the blink of an eye, the man had been spun around and hit. Out cold, he crumpled gracelessly to the ground, his two friends nervously backing away from the tall, pale angel whose eyes snapped dangerous golden sparks.

"I don't think so," said Yuki in a dangerously low voice. "We celebrities have to stick together, you know." His eyes spoke volumes, the yellow fires in them clearly furious. The two other ruffians wisely backed away further and held up their hands in surrender. As the writer stepped away and toward the two little musicians, the two goons bent and hefted their friend up. They headed for the exit.

Yuki turned to face Suguru and Shuichi fully, his raked them from head to foot, as though checking them over for injuries. His eyes narrowed and the anger in his eyes blazed at the sight of Shuichi's swelling cheek.

Suddenly, Hiro appeared. He was holding the drinks he'd gone to fetch and looked very relaxed. However, at the sight of his two band mates, Suguru clutching Shuichi protectively and Yuki before them, he quickly bristled. Suguru realised that the entire scene had taken place very quickly and that Hiro had no idea what had happened. There was tension in the air around them, but not for the reasons the guitarist supposed. He tried to calm the situation before another incident erupted.

"Hiro! It's not what you think!" He released Shuichi, vaguely aware the singer hadn't moved since Yuki had come to their rescue. He stepped around the still singer and toward his other band mate, reaching out pleadingly. "There were some homophobes who recognised us and they tried to pick a fight!"

"What happened?" Hiro asked, eyeing the writer warily.

"Yuki-san stepped up and kicked their leader's ass." Suguru deliberately left out the details of the violence. He was pretty sure Shuichi didn't want the guitarist to know if it could be helped, either.

"What happened to YOU?" Hiro suddenly asked, looking alarmed. He put the drinks down on their table and reached for the keyboardist. With hands cold from handling the drinks, he probed at his band mate's face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" Suguru did not even attempt to pull away from Hiro; he knew the guitarist would only be all the more concerned. It was better to ride it out. He outlined what had happened instead then insisted, "Yuki-san helped us!"

"Fine, so I owe the guy my thanks," Hiro grumbled. They turned toward where they had last seen Shuichi and Yuki standing to find the two were no longer in sight.

Shit.

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"How does that feel?" Yuki asked, left hand gently cradling Shuichi's face. The right held a package of ice wrapped in a damp towel, which he was pressing against the singer's jaw.

"COLD!" Shuichi exclaimed, jerking away a little. But, with a small huff, he let the writer attend to him.

Looking up at his saviour, Shuichi suddenly realised how close their faces were to each other. He flushed with nervousness, looked away and reached to hold the ice pack so Yuki could move away. At the touch of their hands, he started a little, aware that this was the first time they'd touched since the tour launch party. He laughed nervously, trying to cover up his roiling emotions.

"I'll take over holding this," Shuichi said, still looking away. Slowly, Yuki's hands withdrew, almost reluctantly. "This is kind of nostalgic, huh? Except the roles are reversed and I didn't attend to you that time."

"What?"

"Suguru, he… er, he hit you and, well…" Trailing off, Shuichi felt all the more nervous. He shouldn't be reminding Yuki of that, giving the writer reasons to regret coming to their aid.

"I remember." Yuki's voice sounded tired, but his tone changed when he asked, "Did you want to attend to me then?"

Shuichi blushed, realising he had given something away with his earlier words. He did not answer.

"Well, I'm glad I'm attending to you now."

With effort, Shuichi kept his eyes focused away from the novelist's face. He looked down at the ornately carved table upon which his left elbow rested, his left hand clutching the ice compress. He was sitting in one of three silk-upholstered chairs, as was Yuki. They were in the writer's hotel room.

Earlier at the club, when he'd seen Hiro notice the mark on Suguru's face, he had panicked. Hiro would have gone ballistic to know they'd both been hurt. Knowing his best friend, the guitarist would have gone to take the other two done and gotten into trouble. In that panic, he now realised he had not been thinking very clearly when he'd grabbed Yuki's hand and led the writer out of the club.

Shuichi and the band were staying together in the same hotel, but the singer had not wanted to go to his room knowing his two band mates would go looking for him there first. So he'd asked Yuki to take them to his room instead. It was nicer too, one of the most posh hotels in the area, arrangements made by Tohma of course. Hopefully, Hiro and Suguru would not know where Yuki was staying and thus not bother them for a while.

With the 'ice' broken since the incident at the club, this was a ripe opportunity for a one on one chat…

"Ne, Yuki,"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry." Shuichi dipped his head a little further, letting his hair shield his eyes. He was a little uncertain how to launch into what he wanted to say.

"Don't say that," the writer ordered sharply. Shuichi's eyes widened at the hard tone. "Stop apologising for things and you have nothing to apologise for to me… never to me."

"I just meant… I wanted to apologise for tonight, for bothering you--"

"You're not bothering me," Yuki said harshly, a hand slapping the table.

Shuichi felt miserable. He could hear the tension in Yuki's voice, the genuine irritation. But he had the feeling the writer was not irritated with him, but with himself. He hated making Yuki feel bad. Well, now was a perfect opportunity to make the man feel better, right? He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please listen!" Shuichi took a breath, preparing himself. "Thank you for helping us, I really appreciate it!" He kept with his momentum, "It was a very kind, very friendly thing to do, so please!" he sighed, the words suddenly sounding silly in his head. "Let's be friends…"

_Idiot_, he told himself, _this is blind-siding Yuki_. He tried to cover up his silliness with haphazard reasoning, "We can be friends, since we're on tour and supposed to be working together. Everyone's been giving you a hard time because of me and you can't do your job right. And it's not alright! If we can work this out we don't have to be at odds anymore and we can all get along--"

"Stop babbling," Yuki said, his voice suddenly gentle.

"I'm so--" a warm hand covered his mouth, cutting off the rest of the singer's words.

"Quit apologising," the writer reminded him.

Shuichi looked up. On Yuki's face was a gentle expression he had not seen in a very long time. In those eyes, he saw relief and… hope. He felt a shudder run down his spine, his mind traitorously supplying images of what he really wanted instead of the friendship he'd just proposed.

Startled, he dropped the ice pack. He went to pick it up off his lap at the same time Yuki did and their hands met. The writer's warm fingers were also in his lap and against his leg, the heat sharply contrasting the chill of the ice pack. A second shudder ran down his spine, and his body tightened in response to the touch on his thigh.

"I got it!" Shuichi squeaked, resisting the self-preserving urge to push Yuki's hands away. One of the writer's hands closed around his right wrist, forcing him to look up and meet the man's gaze.

"I accept your offer of friendship." Yuki tilted his head a little to one side and gave a small smile. Shuichi was completely entranced. It had been a very long time since he had seen Yuki smile, and he had always liked seeing both the writer's mouth and eyes reflecting the same expression. This smile reached those yellow eyes, and Shuichi liked being the reason behind it.

"Good," Shuichi whispered, smiling, and tried to pull his hand back. He watched Yuki hesitate before letting go.

"Then we're friends," Yuki agreed, nodding slightly. The small smile bloomed across his face again when he asked, "Does this mean we can talk again?"

"Yes, of course," Shuichi answered automatically. But a thought occurred to him and he frowned a little. "But there are some things I don't want to talk about and as a friend, you should respect that." Yuki's eyes sparkled at him, and Shuichi realised he still understood the way the writer's mind worked. And if he was right, he knew what would be coming next.

"But as your friend," There was a slight stress on that last word. "There are some things that I need to discuss with you. What do I do?"

"Save it until I'm ready," he ordered. He had wanted to make this offer so they could get along, not dig up the past. His frown deepened into a scowl, and he gave the writer a significant, warning look.

"As you wish," said Yuki calmly, still smiling.

"Don't play games with me, Yuki," Shuichi warned.

"Eiri,"

"Eh?" Shuichi eyes furrowed for a different reason. Was that what he thought it was?

"My name is Eiri," said the writer. "Friends should call me by name."

"Eh…" the name seemed strange to him, even in his mind. He hesitantly tried again, "Ei…ri…"

"That's right," Eiri smiled a little, and gave a brief nod. He had a strange expression on his face as he listened to Shuichi wrap his tongue around the name.

"Eiri," Shuichi felt a little more confident, knew this was an invitation few ever received. He liked it, but it made his heart clench when he said it. The pain ought to be a good reminder to him, he thought, of the distance there should be despite calling the writer by his first name.

There was a twisted humour to be found in this simple change. He had called the writer 'Yuki', an assumed pen name, when they were lovers but was allowed to call the man by his given name now that they were friends. Just friends… How could that not hurt? He carefully wiped his face free of expression and looked up to meet Eiri's gaze.

"Thank you," he murmured. This was going to be very hard indeed, he realised. "I have to warn you, though, the rest of the band are not going to like this."

"It's alright," Eiri waved his concern away. "It's only your opinion that really matters to me anyway."

"But they're my band mates," the singer brow furrowed again a little, worried. "And we are all going to be on tour together for the next few months--"

"Is it important to you that I get along with them?" Shuichi registered the frown on Eiri's face. The writer seemed annoyed, but he could see the thinly masked a concern and worry beneath.

"I think it would be best for everyone if we all got along well," he hedged. "We would be a lot more productive and this promo--"

"You didn't answer my question, Shuichi."

A shiver snaked down the singer's spine at Eiri's use of his name. Was it going to be like that, too? Eiri using his given name properly now that they were friends and giving up the insults he'd used when they were lovers?

"Yes," the singer said, firmly. "It is important to me."

"Did you offer me friendship so we would all get along better?" Eiri asked, suddenly. He seemed tense, and there was something in his tone that made Shuichi carefully study his expression.

"Yes, but," he didn't want to go into details about that. "But it is something that I want for us, too."

"Good." Eiri relaxed and leaned back in his chair.

"But I do want you all to get along better," Shuichi insisted. He pulled the ice compress away from his jaw, distracted when a cold rivulet made its way down his forearm.

The ice in the hand towel was melting and the pack would need to be changed. He could see Eiri at the rim of his peripheral vision, leaning forward and reaching for the compress in his hand. Without thinking, he lifted his arm and semi-extended it to pass the package to Eiri, and at the same time he ducked his head to catch the running water at his elbow. The cool moisture felt good on his tongue. His throat was dry from nervousness and he had never gotten his drink at the bar.

Face rising as he licked up to his wrist, he caught sight of the hand frozen above his own. Startled to find the other man so still, he swept his gaze up to Eiri's shocked-looking face.

"Eiri?" his eyes widened with concern. "Is something wrong?" Ignoring him, the writer snatched the package from him and turned away toward the bathroom. From where he sat, he could watch Eiri dump the melting ice cubes in the sink and wring the small towel out.

"Your face is discolouring," said the novelist gruffly, as he prepared a new compress. "It's not looking good."

"Oh, shit," Shuichi grumbled, prodding at his jaw. It felt stiffly puffy and he winced a little at the pain. "Mr K is going to throw a fit when he sees this."

He stood and followed Eiri, wanting to see in the mirror how bad it was. In the bathroom, he stood beside his former lover, very conscious of how his elbow brushed Eiri's hip and generally how near the writer was to him. He liked it, but it was also tortuous. He stared at his reflection absently, his senses still preoccupied, and reached up to his face again.

"Quit poking at it," Eiri ordered, yanking his hand away from his face.

Automatically, Shuichi pouted up at the bossy man. He winced again when his face disagreed with the habit.

"And don't do that." Eiri brushed past heading for the mini fridge. "Pouting doesn't suit you anyway."

"I will pout if I want to!" Shuichi snapped, suddenly short tempered. He covered his mouth in surprise, startled at the vehemence in his own voice. He looked wide eyed over at Eiri's back, who stood still at the mini bar. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so--"

"Quit apologising." The writer resumed re-making the ice pack. He turned and looked at Shuichi expectantly.

The singer was worried with himself. Where had the anger come from? He didn't want to ruin their new friendship when he liked having Eiri near him and on speaking terms again. He wanted this to work; he would make this work.

Shuichi plodded over to his seat and re-took it, then held out his hand for the ice pack. Instead of giving it back, Eiri knelt before him and, cradling his face, applied the compress himself.

At the gentle touch, the singer's eyes filled with tears. It was so good to have Eiri being so nice to him, he hadn't had anyone touch him quite the way the writer did. The underlying tenderness made him ache, but he liked it very much, never mind they were going to be nothing but friends henceforth. Even then, since they had come to this agreement, they had already settled back into a certain level of familiarity.

Things were comfortable in a way that was easy and natural to both of them. It would also be too easy and natural to slip back into other habits… things that were not befitting a mere friendship. These thoughts frightened Shuichi, saddened him, and the pressure of tears behind his eyes increased.

He could not hide his expression from the writer, who on his knees had a low angle view of the singer's face. He let the tears fall and Eiri brushed them away with his thumbs.

"It's normal for you to angry with me," said the writer. "If you haven't vented it, it will be there and it will need to come out."

"I don't want to let it out," Shuichi muttered sadly. It would not do to hurl bad and hurtful words at his new friend. They would only argue and everything would be worse than it was before. "I want it to just go away…"

"Then you will need to make it go away." Eiri told him, still with that kind voice. "You need to let it out."

"I don't want to," whined the singer, plaintively. He tried to pull his knees up and curl up into a ball, but Eiri wedged them out of the way with his elbows, hands preoccupied with the compress and cradling Shuichi's cheek.

"Look at me," Eiri ordered. Shuichi closed his eyes instead. "Look at me, Shuichi, this is important."

This was painful. It hurt Shu to be angry, when the anger made him sad and the sadness in turn made his heart heavy. Yet he also recognised a truth in Eiri's words. His emotions only ever found a way out through his songs, but he hadn't written many angry songs lately.

He had stopped… around the time Suguru had discovered his song folder in the Bad Luck house. He hadn't written any music just for himself since. He wasn't angry with his band mates for listening to his emotional diary, but he had not made another since then. He supposed his anger now was from bottling everything up.

Trusting Eiri to say something intelligent, something that might make this new relationship work and give him a way to deal with this, he took a deep breath. He forced himself to calm before opening his eyes.

"I was wrong," the novelist admitted, looking regretful and pained. "I was wrong to do what I did to hurt you." Shuichi looked away, the reminder making his eyes tear up again and the anger swell. "I didn't think about how much it would hurt us both, and I regret that. I'm sorry for hurting YOU more than anything, though." He tilted Shuichi's chin, trying to get the boy to meet his gaze again. "You didn't deserve it and you have every right to hate me for doing that to you. I deserved to have you hit me, not Fujisaki."

Whimpering, Shuichi tried to pull away. This was not what he wanted! He didn't like talking about the past, didn't want to open up those old wounds. He had made a decision about their friendship, that the past would not be brought into it and they could both move on in their relationship. Being angry was his own problem now and it has nothing to do with Eiri. But the man wouldn't let him withdraw, large hands clamping down and keeping him still, not letting him move away.

"Let me go," Shuichi whispered. Anything louder and he might have shouted.

"Shuichi--"

"No!" he hissed. He wanted this to work! "Just let me go! You don't have the right to make me talk about anything that I don't want to and I don't want to talk about any of that!" His vision blurred completely and he could not see. He could feel, though, and he used his sense of touch to pull away and recede into his seat, pulling up his legs and curling up. "I offered you my friendship, but that is all that I am offering you!"

Somewhere along the way, Shuichi realised he had begun to shout. Shit. The anger was coming loose again, and one more time things were spiralling out of his control. He chose his best option in the situation, but this time it would be with dignity: He nudged Eiri out of the way and quickly stood. Stepping to one side away from the writer, he bowed briefly.

"I'm sorry for shouting," Shuichi said, speaking clearly and around his tear-thickened throat. He brushed at his eyes as he continued, "But I would not like to discuss this matter anymore, and I would like to go back to my room. I'm tired, so please pardon me." He spun on his heel and marched for the door. As his hand settled on the door handle, Eiri's arm snaked past over Shuichi's shoulder and planted itself on the door to stop him from opening the portal.

"I will let you go, Shuichi," said Eiri, his voice calm and reassuring; not at all threatening. "But I want you to know that when you are ready, when you want to let the anger go, I will be waiting. I'll take it. You deserve to… be free."

"Thank you," the singer replied, politely.

He did not turn around, his hand continued to grip at the door handle. Eiri pulled away and Shuichi opened the door. He shut it quietly behind him and made his way to the elevator. At the hotel front desk, he calmly asked for a taxi, politely thanked the valet, and maintained his composure through the fifteen minute ride.

It wasn't until he was undressed and buried under his blankets that he curled upon himself and wept.

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Hiro and Suguru didn't seem too eager, but Shuichi's enthusiasm was a little hard to resist.

From his decision to mend bridges with his former lover, to tossing them a curveball at what should have been a routine radio interview, Shuichi had that silly way of getting everyone to see that his way was the best way to go.

For now, they'd decided.

Shuichi had refused to discuss what had happened between him and Yuki-san, but it seemed that the change was good for the singer. That was the only reason they were agreeing to be nice to the writer. Well, that and the man needed to write his damn book.

"Come on!" the singer whined at his two band mates. "This'll be great! We don't have to go acoustic, they have equipment right here!"

"The machines aren't set up for us!" Argued Suguru, hissing and trying not too attract attention, a hand clamped around Shuichi's forearm.

"And the longer we stand here arguing, the less time we'll have to prepare, so let's go!" Grabbing Suguru's wrist, easily accessible via the keyboardist's grip on his arm, Shuichi dragged his band mate into the sound booth with him. Hiro dutifully followed his best friend.

"Ugh!" growled Suguru with disgust. He fixed a glare on Hiro, snapping, "You're supposed to be another voice of reason, not blindly following the idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot," Tossed the singer over his shoulder. Hiro smiled, enjoying watching the banter and ignoring Suguru's nasty expression.

"You're not, Shu," said the guitarist, "And I AM following 'the idiot', actually…" he levelled his teasing gaze on the incensed synth-master.

"Huh!" huffed Suguru, glaring, eyes narrowing further.

"Yay!" cheered Shuichi, releasing Suguru now that they were in the sound booth. "I'm not the idiot today!" A few attending technicians laughed at overhearing this.

The band were at a local radio station for an interview, but had arrived fifteen minutes too early. Fifteen minutes which Suguru obviously did NOT want to spend cramming in a sound check so the band could play a live number for the show.

'Trust Shuichi', Suguru had said earlier, 'to come up with such a suggestion, opening his big mouth to make another mad boast and get the band in trouble'. Huh, thought Shuichi, what a stick in the mud. The boy needed to have a sense of adventure! What was the point of being a young adult if you behaved like you were on your way to retirement?

So there they were, with twelve minutes to tune the equipment, set up, and run through some sound checks. No big deal, right?

Not if you were Fujisaki Suguru, apparently. Koharu-san was now on the keyboardist's list of people to hate, and the poor DJ had only been trying to do his job.

After setting up, they trooped back into the DJ booth and sat before the microphones. Hiro nestled the studio guitar in his lap, tuning the instrument and strumming it occasionally throughout the interview. They gave their introductions over the airwaves and talked a little about how they were happy to be performing. After answering dutiful questions about the tour, Koharu-san invited his silent and distant audience to prepare themselves for a live song performance. There would be only a short commercial break, to give the band time to get into position.

From the sound booth, the band members re-introduced themselves and announced that they were going to play The Rage Beat. It was their first song and biggest hit, and ranked most favourite on the studio's most recent poll.

They got into performance mode and nodded at each other. Striking up the tones on the keyboard, Suguru flashed his singer a big smile. Hiro nodded, foot tapping to the beat, a grin sweeping across his face. The song brought memories flooding back to Shuichi, how these words in his head, these pronouncements, were meant for one person. He saw blonde hair and gold eyes, a tall frame and billowing coat. He recalled the way the page of lyrics had looked in the slender fingers of that pale hand…

Opening his mouth to sing, Shuichi felt the sound and emotion resonate down into his heart. It ached, the pain he'd set aside rising and almost choking him. But he could still sing, his open throat refusing to close down on the sound. He could feel how his own body rejected the pressure from within, insisting on letting the music out. His heart leaked out the hidden pain while his body kept the outlet open, letting the hurt drain away slowly through the song. He knew he was singing powerfully; it felt good.

This was good. He was letting his anger free. This was the way it should be, letting the past go and facing a new future. When he re-opened his eyes at the end of the song he, blinking to clear misty vision, and gave Koharu-san a big grin. He felt better, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, as though he were almost… happy. It had been some time since he had really felt like this.

"Shuichi…" Hiro looked concerned, setting aside his guitar to signal the DJ before approaching. Shuichi heard the monitors mutely but registered a commercial had just been put on air instead of the final words they'd planned for. The guitarist reached for him, muttering, "Come here."

Obediently hopping off his stool, the singer looked up at his best friend with puzzlement. Hiro's hands came to rest on his shoulders, before quietly asking,

"Are you okay? You're crying…"

Shuichi reached up and touched his face, his fingertips smearing the moisture across his cheek. His eyes widened at the amount of wetness there and he exclaimed, "I didn't know! I'm sorry, did I ruin the interview? That's a commercial on now." He glanced up at Koharu-san, embarrassed and surprised. The DJ gave him a small sympathetic smile, leaning to his microphone to reply through the sound booth speaker,

"Don't worry. I'm just giving you a moment to yourself." Shuichi nodded at that, turning back to his very worried band mates.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I didn't even know I was crying!" He scrubbed his face on his sleeve and hopped back onto his stool. He smiled at Hiro, but his best friend winced a little. Not understanding, he frowned and tried to reason, "I wasn't sobbing or anything, so I can't look that bad."

"That's not it," Hiro sighed. "We'll talk about it later, okay?" The guitarist rumpled his hair before retaking his own seat.

Shuichi kept frowning… he hadn't realised how his own body would reject his decisions.

Well, that was to be expected, he supposed. He was forcing something the odd friendship with Eiri on himself which he did not want, and which no one else seemed to really support. But it was what he wanted and he would damn well get it. He set his jaw. This was how it would be and his singing wasn't suffering.

He had liked being happy like that, how the song had made him feel. It was working, this way, so there was no reason to change or challenge it. He would sing, and his anger and pain would drain out that way. He had a whole tour ahead of him and there would plenty of opportunities to let his resentments out…

He picked at the corner of his shirt absently, thinking deeply.

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Please review or comment! Thank you!!


	14. Unlikely Allies

Chapter 14

Unlikely Allies

* * *

On February twenty-seventh, Bad Luck made Aomori news headlines. 

They performed to, as usual, a sold-out concert venue. They attended various promotional events, CD signings and other guest appearances. The group also stopped by a school and addressed a music class to talk about composing and inspiration. They jammed with a few students, went out for drinks. Simply, they were on everyone's lips.

Amongst the roadies, another talk was circulating about the new tentative friendship between Yuki Eiri and the band's lead singer. Knowing the history, most disapproved, but they were slowly being won over. They could see how the little singer was making an effort, getting the stoic writer to smile. Shuichi was just such a sweet soul like that, they all knew it. In a way, there wasn't anything else they could have ever expected of him. He was always doing nice things because it was second nature to him. Was that not what they loved him for?

'The Group': K, Bad Luck, Sakano, Jubilee, Katsuya and Eiri were always together now. They spent every day busy together at commitments or sightseeing, and every night at friendly, noisy dinners.

Quickly, it dawned on the rest of The Group that Eiri was playing guardian angel. He shadowed the singer like a bodyguard, watching out for him, sometimes helping him with his day. The novelist made sure the singer ate properly, went to bed on time, and brought the boy back to his room when he'd had a few too many drinks. Eiri made certain the group got to their appointments, even occasionally driving them when a roadie could not be spared to chauffeur them around. Within a week, by the concert in Hokkaido, he had taken the responsibility over completely.

The novelist also played nice with Hiro and Suguru, supplying the former with cigarettes and discussing politics and business with the latter. He even chatted with Shizune, Jubilee's lead singer, about his books. He was polite to the rest of Jubilee and the roadies, as well.

He made an effort, initially not because he wanted to but because it was important to Shuichi. But, bit by bit, it was rather… nice. These people were not as 'old' and jaded as his own friends. It was too soon to really tell, but he thought he might actually like these people. In any case, he respected them, got along with everyone and things settled nicely; Yuki Eiri became one of them.

And Eiri liked it.

* * *

"I think I'm drunk," Shuichi complained, ruining the effect by suddenly letting out a giggle. Eiri had taken them out to a Sapporo Brewery pub on their last night in Hokkaido, hours after their late afternoon concert on the second of March. "But this stuff sure tastes good…" 

"That'll have to be your last glass," Eiri decided for him, sipping from his own pint glass. A little while later, they left to take a long walk out to Odori Koen, a garden which split Sapporo City into two halves. It was quiet and cool, there were few people out tonight and they were almost alone…

"It's nice to spend time with you," Shuichi declared, speech a little slurred. "We didn't get to do this much before, you know?"

"Yes, it is nice," the writer agreed readily enough. He was much more sober and therefore very aware of the twinge in his heart, at Shuichi's innocent hint at their turbulent past. He had never seen Shuichi tipsy like this before the tour, despite that there had always been a supply of beer in the house when they'd lived together. He admitted, "I didn't know you drank, actually."

"Oh! Yeah," Shuichi grinned happily. "I don't drink too often since it's bad for my voice. Mostly, I just drink when there is an occasion to."

"What is the occasion tonight?" Eiri reached out to steady the boy when he appeared to stumble a little on the uneven ground.

"Tonight?" He looked relaxed and unself-conscious as he blurted, "It's an occasion because it's just the two of us. It could almost be a date except we're not a couple, but I guess we can call it… making up for some lost time." He looked up and smiled guilelessly at the writer.

"Lost time, eh?" Yuki stupidly repeated. Liquor seemed to have the same effect on the little singer as truth serum. He hesitated a moment, it could be a breach of trust to pry a little into Shuichi's feelings for him in this state. He asked, "Would you like to go out on proper a date with me?"

"No, thank you," Shuichi quickly but politely replied. "Not that I don't want to, but it would be kind of awkward."

"Why 'awkward'?" Eiri prodded softly. "I would like to take you out."

"And I would like to be taken out," the singer admitted, looking up at the stars. Pain twisted his features for a moment before he said, "But what we had, Eiri, is over. That is that."

The writer forced himself not to push the topic, not wanting to put Shuichi in a bad mood by pressing the matter. The last time he had gone too far Shuichi had run away from him in tears. The air had cleared since then, and he did not want a repeat of that day. Mostly, he didn't want to disrespect his new friendship with the singer by abusing the boy's alcohol-induced honesty.

"I can… respect that," Eiri had told the boy. _For now,_ he silently added.

* * *

The next day, most of the crew were to fly back to Tokyo for their mid tour break. 

The roadies would be driving from North Japan down to their next venue, a midway point of the country near Tokyo before they all continued on with the second half, now down toward the south of the country. So far, nothing had broken down, no one had fallen ill and things were moving smoothly along.

At the airport shop, Eiri was contemplating buying himself a book. The ridiculously limited selection had very few of his favourite authors, and he frowned until he suddenly spotted Shuichi. The singer walked in, snagged what appeared to be a random book and went to purchase it. Curious, the writer sidled up and asked,

"Shuichi, do you even know what you're buying?" Shuichi jumped, startled, then glared at the writer.

"Do you think I just buy things randomly?" He retorted. "My parents did teach me frugality and buying economically, you know."

"Well, what is that?" Eiri was very interested in seeing the cover of the thick yellow paperback which the singer clutched to his chest.

"It's 'Blood and Gold', by Anne Rice," Shuichi replied, stepping up to pay for his selection.

Eiri had not read any of Anne Rice's work, but he knew she wrote fantasy novels. His curiosity was now more roused by the singer than the mediocre selection. Feeling a little nosy, he followed Shuichi back into the waiting lounge and sat across from the boy.

"Since when--" he cut himself off. He didn't want to create an opening for Shuichi to remind him of something else Eiri had not noticed about his lover over the two years they had been together. The singer didn't really try to rub it in, and usually did not rise to opportunities to remind him, but he noticed such slips tended to make Shuichi sad. He tried again, "Have you always liked Anne Rice's work?"

"Yep!" Shuichi said, settling into his seat where, because he was so small, it appeared to swallow him up. He glanced around quickly, as though to see if anyone was listening, then leaned forward and said, "She writes dark things, sensual stuff I could never imagine. It's almost… dangerous. I love it." He sat back and smiled a little.

"I would never have thought you'd like dark themes," Eiri leaned forward, too, not wanting Shuichi to brush the topic away so soon. "You dress in so many colours and you seem to always be so cheerful. It doesn't seem like you." He avoided bringing up Bad Luck's most recent songs. Those had been dark songs, reflecting anger and hurt. To initiate such a conversation would only push the boy away.

"Everyone needs a little balance to offset things in their lives," Shuichi declared, "Even me."

"I suppose so." He considered if he himself had balance in his life and almost immediately decided that it had been the little singer who had balanced him. It wasn't a hard conclusion to arrive at. He asked, "Does it translate over well into Japanese?" and wondered which version he might buy to have a peek into Shuichi's interest himself.

"Not too well, I'm told," the boy admitted. "Apparently, a lot of the nuances that make the story as specific as it was written are lost in translation. In this case, it's a shame Japanese as a language is so implicit."

"I think that is probably why I like English so much," Eiri admitted softly, half to himself, cradling his chin in a propped hand on the table. He decided he would buy the book in English. "The selection of words with which to say precisely what you mean is rather vast."

"But English itself is such a young language," snorted Shuichi, "Japanese was around for many eras and Chinese is so much older--"

"Not quite so." Eiri told the singer. "Well, English originates mostly from Latin which dates back earlier than Japanese, though not as far as Chinese. In any case, Latin is... not so implicit for its age. And quite a few other languages were born from it across Europe. It's why some words from different countries in Europe might be very similar and mean the same things though the languages, on the surface, seem so different."

"I suppose that is so. But its so hard to learn. I still prefer Japanese, though I just would have expected it to be a lot more specific considering the history of this country," Shuichi said, warming to the topic. "Language evolves because of change, like conflict and sometimes even from something as simple as weather changes. One would think that Japan, an island so isolated, having four distinct seasons and with the history it does, would have a much more diverse vocabulary."

Shuichi frowned, then continued, "Think of all those rainforests where tradition and way of life are so similar to the way it was hundreds of years ago because there was nothing to force change; where even the weather is temperate all year round. Japan by comparison, has had so much opportunity to evolve, yet has not really seemed to have done as much as it could have."

Eiri and Shuichi proceeded to argue on the changes of language and expression, and the factors that drive the change or development in communication.

The writer felt at ease making these arguments, they weren't familiar topics between him and the little singer but the conversation still flowed. Shuichi didn't know as much as he, and he still had to explain a few things. But the singer made a few clever arguments, taking a conservative anthropological outlook on matters while Eiri took a more modern psychological view. Conversation flowed easily between them, two intelligent adults who were each successful in their own right, and who each had very interesting perspectives.

Later on, when they both sat back to mull over things the other had said, Eiri realised he had missed this. He remembered spending time with Shuichi at his favourite coffee shop in Harajuku (1) where they'd often argued about writing and self-expression. Judging from this current conversation, those arguments back then had really only just scratched the surface of the level of conversation Shuichi might carry.

Written word and poetry, then by consequence literature itself, had become something of an obsession for him since Eiri had always made a habit of insulting his lyrics. The singer was not as well educated, that was obvious, but he absorbed details like a sponge.

Eiri felt a little embarrassed to admit he had not originally thought of his lover as a true equal, now slowly understanding Shuichi to be a less simple individual than he'd originally thought. The little singer had always been interested in how to make his music better, improve and grow. It would make sense his interests would expand, that he'd explore a little. Just because the kid had not been good at school did not mean that the singer was stupid.

Suddenly, Eiri realised that he had been guilty of dismissing the boy.

It had been his mistake, not looking deeper into the hidden complexities, not making true effort in learning about his own lover. In hindsight, he should have realised there was more to Shuichi than the j-pop singer façade. It had just been easier to shrug the boy off.

So he'd been fooled… No, he had _allowed_ himself to be fooled. And he felt damn silly about it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Shuichi asked. His brows furrowed with both worry and hesitant curiosity.

"I was just thinking that," Eiri was careful to choose his words, but spoke honestly, "how much fun I'm having getting to know you now. I realise there is a lot more to who you are than I had given you credit for."

Shuichi flushed, looking a little surprised. He looked away.

"I apologise," Eiri said, holding his hand out to the boy. Shuichi reached over immediately and clasped the writer's hand back.

"It's alright," Shuichi smiled. "We have all the time in the world to get to know each other now." But then the smile suddenly fell off his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Shuichi said, pulling his hand back. His face smoothed out into an expressionless mask, posture curling inward self-protectively. He pointedly opened his book and began to read, dismissing the conversation.

Damn it.

Just when he thought that he was making significant progress with the singer, something would come up and ruin the moment. His hand tingled with the memory of where Shuichi had touched him; he missed it already. He wanted to know what was wrong so that he would not unwittingly drive that touch away.

* * *

Later that same day, Eiri arrived in his apartment, this spacious place where there was no one to welcome him home.

He considered getting a cat, an independent creature which might at least provide some amusement by not losing glaring matches. The rascal might even keep him grounded, by keeping the writer on the receiving end of indifferent affection.

Chuckling at his own musings, Eiri shook his head. He figured he owed his strange humour to lack of companionship, of being alone with his thoughts so often. When the brat had lived with him, they would talk often. It didn't matter if it was just to argue about how 'stupid' Shuichi was, and sometimes they'd talked about whatever book he'd been in the process of writing. And, cohabiting with someone else to consider forced Eiri to think about other things and not just himself.

He felt incredibly alone now that the boy was gone; more so now having had a taste of how interesting Shuichi could be.

As he made his way to NG for a late afternoon press conference, he thought about the previous week when he and Shuichi had made up. He recalled how the singer had looked so cute up close; he had forgotten how cute Shuichi was. He had not been that near the singer since… that confrontation at the Hotel Intercontinental, just after the Valentine's Day concert. That night, tending to the injured singer, had been jarring.

At the conference, the reporters seemed excited to see him. There were fewer disapproving expressions now than the last time he'd appeared before them. Steadily, since he and Shuichi had mended bridges and were 'back' to being friends, the press and public had been warming up to him. His publishing company had even reported that the threat-count was back to a lower, sensible level, and that they no longer received cursed charms in with the morning post.

"Where will you be spending your mid tour break?" asked one reporter. "Will you remain in Tokyo or leave the city to visit your families?"

"You are the last people on earth we would tell!" Eiri told her sternly, mock frowning. The reporters, especially the female ones, twittered.

"Have there been any more incidents since that at the Hotel Intercontinental?"

"None," he told the rude little reporter. There had been tabloid photos of the former couple talking and laughing, of spending time together within The Group on tour. The Jubilee band, in an earlier press conference, had even admitted that 'the great Yuki Eiri' had pitched in as a chauffeur when the roadies had been a little too busy.

Suddenly, he realised that Shuichi had also spoken at the same time. They shared a small smile and the cameras flashed madly.

"Your jaw appears to have healed nicely, Yuki-sama," Kaoruko said, that nasty reporter woman who'd been a big supporter of ASK, her eyes flashing nastily. Silly woman seemed interested only in stirring up trouble.

"Yes, it appears it has." This time, when Eiri frowned at her, it was genuine.

Eiri vividly recalled how Shuichi had looked with his own beaten and bruised jaw, clutching an ice compress. When a small trickle of the melting ice had made its way down his arm and Shuichi had licked it up, Eiri's body had violently reacted to the sight of that warm wet muscle. It had no less than floored him! It had been agony when the singer had looked innocently up at him, truly worried by his sudden stillness… Gods, it had taken all his self control to stop from bending over and seizing those soft lips with his own.

"So you've really 'kissed and made up'?"

"Next question!" Eiri growled. He missed Shuichi's kisses. Missed the boy's tenderness in general, missed… Argh.

There were too many things he missed. He had unconsciously become attached to the singer, had allowed the boy to become a big part of his life. It was stupid to keep repeating it to himself, but he did anyway: He had been very stupid to ruin what he'd had.

But he did not tell the press that.

And he would be damned if he did not get it back.

* * *

"It's great to be home!" said Hiro, rocking his seat back onto the two rear legs, arms stretched above his head.

"Don't tempt me…" warned Tatsuha, eyeing him across the conference table with a nasty glint in his eye. The guitarist realised how easy it would be to give his chair leg a quick nudge from underneath the table. He resettled his seat quickly, prematurely cutting off the pleasurable stretch.

"Quit behaving like idiots," Suguru muttered at them absently from Hiro's left, attention absorbed by his current music book in which he was jotting his latest ideas.

Hiro, Suguru, and Tatsuha were waiting for Mika and Yuki to join them in the Bad Luck conference room. It was a bright day on the fourth of March, the day after they had arrived in Tokyo. Today was, aside from being the band's first day of vacation, the first day that they were to include Yuki in their campaign to right Shuichi's problem –whatever it was.

"Remind me again why I'm wasting a day of my vacation waiting for the great Yuki-sama to make his appearance," muttered Hiro, casting a glare over at the door.

"I'm just as displeased as you are that Mika is dragging him into this," Suguru replied, just as softly. "But please be practical! Ever since K…"

The crazy American had told them all to mind their own business; that they would only make matters worse by forcing the issue instead of waiting for the little singer to come tell them when he was ready to talk. Suguru did have to admit that while K had a point, he also knew Shuichi would not ask for help unless he was close to breaking. This usually meant dealing with a shattered Shuichi and watching that magnificent light within his singer dim further.

He would much rather, and both Hiro and Tatsuha agreed with him on this, take counter measures and damage control now than deal with a big mess later. Believing this was a step in the right direction, Suguru was determined to follow this through.

"Yeah, yeah…" said the guitarist dismissively. He was being mule-headed and Suguru disliked it.

"You know," the keyboardist murmured, "I may regret saying this, but I think Shuichi and Yuki patching things up is actually a good thing." Tatsuha looked over at him, curious and concerned. "With things being so good between them, even if it has only been for a little over a week, Shuichi seems a lot less stressed."

"I agree," said Hiro, but his tone was rather grudging. "But just because they are good friends…" Though his band mate let his words drift, Suguru knew exactly what the guitarist meant. Just because Yuki and Shu were good friends, did not mean that they were going to or needed to patch up their romantic relationship.

That was something they could both agree on. In this case, beyond asking Shuichi if he was sure about what he was doing, neither of them had pressed the singer into telling them more about his intentions with this 'friendship'.

"But just because they are good friends, what?" Tatsuha prodded, looking back and forth between them.

"None of your business," The two replied at the same time. Tatsuha huffed and sat back.

Suguru went back to musing, thinking back to when Yuki-san had talked to Hiro asking after Shuichi again. The guitarist had obliged the man civil conversation, as his way of thanking the writer for helping Shuichi. Eventually, over drinks, and with the little singer either blushing profusely or laughing uproariously, Hiro spilled a few nostalgic snippets of the past he shared with his best friend. Suguru had found them all immensely entertaining, and the tales had served as a bit of band bonding.

Admittedly, Yuki fit in with them now; they had accepted him. Day to day, things were alright, but anything more than that was a trial of their patience. Suguru felt setting his personal feelings aside would benefit Shuichi best. The guitarist, on the other hand, was being… mule-headed. So, on top of having one very distant singer, he had a pissed off guitarist, a pesky Tatsuha, a disapproving gun-toting American, and… As if on cue, the conference room door slammed open.

"Where is K?" Mika demanded, marching in with Yuki in tow. The writer looked a little cross.

"Not here," Tatsuha and Suguru replied simultaneously, and they shared a small grin.

"So long as he doesn't mess things up for us," Mika muttered, strutting her way to the head of the conference table. "I actually don't care where he is." She took a seat, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and crossed her elegantly long legs.

"I am not certain he should be here, anyway," Suguru agreed, "Considering his contribution to the incident at the Hotel Intercontinental."

"Just to be clear," Hiro put in bravely in a firm tone of voice, standing up as he gave Mika a hard stare, "I am not of the opinion that getting them back together is the best idea." He tilted his head briefly at Yuki.

"You only want to help Shuichi," Yuki cut in. He looked annoyed, but his voice was calm. Tatsuha glowered at the guitarist, who paid him no mind.

"That's right," Hiro said, looking over at the writer who calmly took a seat next to his brother.

"Is the problem that you don't want us back together or do you just not want to work with me?" the writer prodded.

"Just you," Hiro snorted shortly. "I don't know what your motives are." He inclined his head politely though his eyes blazed.

"WE don't know what your motives are," Suguru interjected, briefly glancing up at Yuki before looking back down at his notebook to write some more.

"I want to help," Yuki told them, holding up a hand to Mika who'd been about to speak. "My motives are my own. And I will not waste time trying to prove my sincerity when we could be spending our time at more useful pursuits. So which is greater, your suspicion of me or your concern for Shuichi?"

"There isn't a competition there," Hiro sat back down.

"I am glad there is not," Yuki said, politely.

"I don't care if you are glad or not!" The guitarist hissed testily.

Quietly, Yuki said, "I am simply saying that I admire your affection for him." Hiro glared at Eiri, too disbelieving to even be shocked.

"You do truly care for him," Suguru was watching the writer carefully, expression calm. He'd finally pulled his attention away from his music book. "I now believe so, having watched you interact with Shuichi over the past week." Hiro and all three Uesugi siblings glanced over at the little synth-master.

"I have known you for some time now," Suguru mused, "Since you came back with Tohma-san from America, and I have never seen you as I recently did."

"Exactly!" Mika said triumphantly. "That is because he has truly changed."

"More so than any of you think or believed possible," Tatsuha added softly.

Hiro snorted. "Well, you two are obliged to protect your precious brother so it is not surprise to hear you defending him." Mika rolled her eyes and reclined in her seat, leaving her brother to fight his war while she examined her manicure. "But I am disappointed that you are disregarding what he has done to Shuichi; what it was that started this whole mess in the first place."

"It is not that we are disregarding it," Tatsuha snapped, "Just that we, unlike you, have talked to Eiri about this and heard his side of the story."

"Let me guess," Hiro sarcastically said, "He's sorry, has seen the errors of his ways and is now hell bent on making it up to Shuichi? Please!"

"You're really beginning to annoy me," the young monk snarled, getting up out of his seat, placing both hands on the table and leaning across the table into the guitarist's face.

"Oh, come on!" Also standing, Hiro faced the youngest Uesugi fearlessly. "You have no interests in this than to get them back together!"

"What?!"

"Even back with that fiasco with Yuki's engagement to Ayaka, all you thought about was how good Shuichi was for your brother!" Hiro accused, "You know nothing about Shuichi! You probably just want to use him in order to get closer to Ryuichi!"

Tatsuha was incredulous, "Is it really impossible for you to imagine that I've come to genuinely _like_ him?"

"ENOUGH," Mika slapped a hand down on the table. Yuki rolled his eyes. "If the two of you cannot come together on the terms that we are all concerned for Shuichi then you can get the hell out!" Both boys sat down, glaring at each other across the table.

"Has anyone considered Shuichi is leaving for America for his after tour vacation?" Suguru said, eager to get the ball rolling and happy to distract Mika from her furious mood. He had seen Tohma do this countless times.

The Uesugis perked, surprised.

"America?" Tatsuha asked. At the same time, Mika and Yuki demanded in unison,

"Why?"

"He's going to do some networking with K and Tohma at a few music events and take English classes," Suguru replied. "He's been doing other non-Bad Luck work, reporting directly to Tohma, and wants to take things further. He has a lot of time on his hands now that…" Everyone heard the unspoken continuation – now that Yuki and he had broken up.

"I don't even know yet if we are celebrating his birthday before he goes," Hiro supplied, looking thoughtfully at the writer. "There's supposed to be a going away party after the last concert at the Hotel Intercontinental. They're holding it in conjunction with the tour-end celebration." He glanced at Yuki briefly. "That should make a ripe opportunity to insinuate yourself; you can try and convince him to stay."

"You don't have to make my brother sound like he is forcing himself into Shuichi's life," Tatsuha growled.

"Of course not!" The guitarist's sarcasm returned full force. It seemed Hiro was making arguments to simply rile the monk and not because he truly disked Yuki. "I mean, according to your precious brother it was Shuichi who was the train wreck in his life; but then, who's a complete mess without who now?"

"Quit picking on him!"

"Poor baby needs his little brother to protect him!"

"SHUT UP!" Yuki snarled at them both, beating Mika to the satisfaction. Suguru calmly noticed that Yuki appeared to have mastered the Evil Eye better than she anyway. Mika seemed to agree, settling down and obviously relishing the cringe the two interrupted combatants shared.

"I realise that you don't want me here," Yuki conceded. "But I am so deal with it!"Hiro was silent, surprised. Mika looked triumphant and Tatsuha was smug. Suguru looked at them all and hid a smile. Such a group of obstinate people…!

"You're just trying to relieve your own guilt," Hiro half-heartedly grumbled. Sitting back in his chair, looking like he knew he was beat. He huffed and silently looked away when Yuki gave him a hard look.

"I think," Suguru spoke up, smiling a little. "That we are all in agreement that Shuichi's best interests are our primary concern."

Mika nodded. "So now that we are all finally settling down, can anyone propose a reason as to why Shuichi would be so distant from all of us?"

"He's hiding something," Hiro reminded everyone.

"I think this is a ripe opportunity to gather what we do know of Shuichi's activities to date," Tatsuha announced.

"Let's start with what we all know about his schedule." Suguru pulled out a second notebook and opened it to a black page. He began to scribble in short-hand, and Yuki glanced approvingly and appreciatively at him.

They discussed a few things that everyone, at some point or other, had each already noticed. Things did not progress far with five people paraphrasing pretty much the same observations. They continued to compare notes anyway, cross-reference time stamps and Shuichi's supposed schedule. Things checked out.

It was getting frustrating.

At another stretch of silence, Hiro turned to Suguru with a sigh. "Have you got any vacation plans?"

Blinking, Suguru said, "I hadn't really thought about it. It's going to be different from vacations past, that's for sure."

"Yeah, at our past vacations Shu was either with us or him," Hiro jerked a thumb over at the writer.

"Do you guys spend ALL your time together?" Tatsuha asked, slumped over the table and looking incredibly bored.

"For the most part, yeah," Hiro shrugged. "And when we all moved in together, we jammed everyday." He smiled a little to himself. "I miss all those jam session we used to have in the studio at home. He's always so busy these days. Last I really spent significant time with him was when I was teaching him to play the guitar."

"He told me it was you," Mika smiled at him. "But he never told me when and why he learned."

"Shuichi wasn't allowed out of the house for a while last year," Hiro said, holding Mika's gaze. It was obvious he was resisting the urge to glare pointedly at Yuki. "He and I just jammed a lot at home. Until you took him away," he joked.

"He needed to get out," Mika flippantly replied. "We had such fun at a lot of events, when I needed to go and had no escort. Eventually, even if Tohma could go, Shuichi went with us anyway." She smiled, "How do you think his sense of style has been improving?"

"Taking credit for my efforts, are you?" Hiro joked back.

"Well, that is all in the past, though," Tatsuha said mournfully. "Now that he's back in Tokyo and on the loose, I'm think this is an opportunity we cannot miss to see what he's really up to."

"I am willing to maximise this effort," Mika announced.

"What do you mean by that?" Suguru wanted to know.

"Well, we need a thorough job done and we want to know everything," Mika explained. "So we hire a professional."

* * *

(1) Chapter 3: In His Eyes –Eiri talks about his relationship with Shuichi and what makes the singer happy. One of them is their regular visiting to Eiri's favourite coffee shop in Harajuku; name never mentioned.

-

Please comment or review, thanks!


	15. The Pink Moppet

Chapter 15

The Pink Moppet

RE-EDITED VERSION

* * *

"These are your own copies, take care of them. For the moment, have a look through and let me know if you recognise anyone."

In their little corner dining area of the restaurant, Mika pulled out four envelopes of photographs. She took one for herself and passed the others over to Hiro to her right who took one and passed the rest to Suguru to his left who handed the last envelope to Tatsuha across the table.

Mika placed a two-inch thick arch lever file before her at the head of the table, tabs marked by date. It was filled with photographs such as they held, each section containing notes, jottings and observations. According to her, the reports were each vague and unassuming but the end result was the same. It was obvious that whatever the hell Shuichi had been up to half the time this past week's worth of vacation, it was not all… clear.

At the risk of sounding cliché, Suguru would say the singer was leading some sort of a double life. He smirked a little to himself at the current photo in his hand, one of Shuichi sitting very close to an NG producer he recognised. Mattieu Sjolund, who had been introduced to them at the _Semblance of Self_ album launch party, really did bear a slight resemblance to a certain novelist. Well, not too much of a similarity. Otherwise how would the press have taken such glee in pointing out the person in Shuichi's company was NOT the writer.

Poor Shu.

"I've seen this girl around NG a few times," Suguru said, pointing to a slender brown-haired girl who'd been photographed accompanying Shuichi into his car. "I'm pretty sure she works at NG."

"She does," Mika confirmed, flipping to the tab marked 'Known Associates' of the file before her. "Her name is… Hinamori Sachiko-san."

A few more people in the photographs were accounted for and 'crossed off'. Some shots were even of them.

Then they got to eight of the tagged photos. They showed Shuichi entering NG, or heading into a building for a meeting, but which were noted as 'entry only'. The investigator had never seen Shuichi leave, only to hear off the news that the singer had been spotted somewhere else a little later. Shuichi occasionally was a slick fellow to follow and, as a result, there were unaccounted periods in the singer's day. There were also photographs of Shuichi entering and leaving the hospital.

"The medical bit is where things get a little tricky," Mika said, tossing a foil sheet of pills onto the table. Four of the eight pills had been popped out. Hiro picked the sheet up, a questioning look on his face, not understanding. Mika nodded at the meds, "Those are painkillers; extremely powerful prescription-only painkillers. Think freight train on steroids, not that those have any steroids in them, but by comparison make my three-hundred milligram over the counter ibuprofen look about as strong as my pinky."

Tatsuha whistled, "Powerful punch packers, then, hmm?"

"That's right." Mika frowned, "VERY powerful."

"How'd you get these and how are they related to Shuichi?" Suguru asked, brows furrowed. He hoped this was not where it was going.

"Those are from the back pack Shuichi left at Eiri's the day he walked out," Mika explained. "Two were already gone when I got a hold of that, the other two I'd sent over to a lab. As you can see, there is no labelling on the backing foil." She glanced at Hiro, who had gone pale.

Shit.

"Hiro?" Suguru prodded. The guitarist seemed to be having trouble composing himself. The keyboardist could understand, these were powerful drugs… _Shuichi_ was taking them. Test drugs of all things, how could they not be worried? But this was not the time for that.

"Usually means it's a test drug," Hiro said thoughtfully, still dazed. He turned the foil pack over in his hands a bit, "Or a placebo."

"It's a test drug," Mika confirmed. "The kind my contact has no sources on, which worries me. But that's not all."

"There's more?" Suguru shifted in his seat. This was already a lot on their plates.

"Those meds have emotional stabilizers and nervous-system specific ingredients." Mika sat back in her chair, elbows propped and her fingers in a steeple as the two musicians had seen Seguchi-san do so often. "This stuff is, to put things plainly, serious shit."

Poor Hiro looked floored, passing a nervous hand over his face.

"Eiri-san?" Suguru asked ,watching his band mate out of the corner of his eye.

"Not his and he doesn't know a thing," Mika replied, eyeing Hiro. "What about you?" Hiro looked up at Mika, surprised then glanced over at Tatsuha who waited expectantly with an intense gaze.

"I don't know anything about this!" the guitarist exclaimed. "Shuichi never said a word to me about being on medication."

"I'd have thought you of all people might know," Tatsuha said, looking puzzled. Suguru frowned at the insensitive young monk.

"Well, I don't! We don't talk about this stuff much anymore. I just think, since he's seeing a therapist, she might have…" he looked uncomfortable. "She might have put him on this." Suguru frowned a little at him. Emotional stabilizers? Nervous system medication? Yeah, right.

"It's possible," Mika acknowledged with an inclination of her head. She flashed her brother a warning look to back off. "But I have the feeling it's not that simple."

"You already told Aniki about this, huh?" The young monk prodded at his sheaf of photos before him on the table. The young monk was oblivious.

"I told him as soon as I found out." Mika selected and unclipped a profile from her folder and handed it to Hiro. Once it had been passed around and returned, all three young men looked up expectantly.

Mika said, "I take it none of you know who he is, then."

"Should we?" Hiro and Tatsuha asked together. They spared each other only the briefest of glances.

"I had hoped," Mika admitted. "There hasn't been enough time to find out much about him or a few more of these people."

Suguru's watched her carefully, aware that she had just carefully pulled the conversation away from discussing the suspicious medication. There was something not quite right about Hiro's nervousness on the matter, either. But that could wait until later.

"First on my list," Deliberately ignoring Suguru's gaze, Mika picked up her coffee cup. "Is to find this Hinamori-san girl and find out why she's been around Shuichi so often. And what else she knows." She took a leisurely sip.

"Hold on," Suguru tore his eyes away from Mika and turned toward Hiro, to his right, "You said 'she' specifically."

"Huh?" Hiro turned to regard his band mate.

"You said Shuichi's been seeing a therapist and 'she' might have put him on these meds," Suguru clarified. "Shuichi has talked to you about his therapy?"

"Well, yeah, a little," Hiro admitted. "But not very much and only when I ask. Her name is Katsuko Naoki-sensei, she has a hospital-based in and out-patient practice. I think she works for one of the departments." Mika sat back in her seat and pulled out her phone, which was buzzing.

"And you didn't see her in any of the photos?" Tatsuha pressed, over the sound of Mika's quiet conversation.

"I don't know what she looks like," the guitarist shook his head. "I've never met her. Shuichi just told me the bare basics about her."

"But thankfully, someone has recognised that red-haired kid," Mika said, dropping her phone back into her bag before snatching up one of Tatsuha's photos from the table. "This guy," she pointed to the tall young man standing next to Shuichi at a park crepe stand, "Is a dancer. By some stroke of luck someone from the investigation company says he's spotted this guy on a club promotions board. Some dance-off thing, and there's another show tonight."

"I'll go," Tatsuha offered. "I'm less… known." Surprisingly, there wasn't a trace of mischief on the monk's face.

"Go where?" Asked Eiri, stepping through the archway into their dining area.

"The club where this kid will be so we can find out who he is," Mika said, holding up the photo in her hand which Eiri snatched up and studied as he passed to take his seat. She received the photo back, returned it to Tatsuha then handed Eiri his envelope of copies. As he pulled the photos out, he wordlessly nodded acknowledgements to the three young men.

"I've seen him before," the writer said, shuffling through his copies. "That fire-head kid, I saw him with this girl--" He pulled out and held up a picture of Hinamori-san, "—outside a hospital with Shuichi." He went back to studying the photos and the attached notes. Suguru thoughtfully leaned back in his seat, cradling his chin with his left hand, tucking his right hand beneath his left elbow.

"When was that?" the keyboardist asked calmly. Eiri didn't even look up.

"I only saw them in passing," the writer said, attention focused on his photos. "Just under two weeks before the tour, when I went to fill one of my prescriptions."

"Shuichi could have been doing the same thing or had an appointment with his therapist," Hiro said, nodding a little. "But Fire Head and Hinamori-san are rather… close to Shuichi if they were accompanying him. Regardless, Hinamori-san is now definitely a solid lead. Now if we can just get a hold of Fire Head…"

Suguru glanced concernedly over at Hiro who throughout the meeting had steadily looked like he was not taking any of this very well. Worried, the synth-master slid a hand under the table over and pressed his fingertips into Hiro's arm. The guitarist offered back a small nod.

"I'd like to touch base with Hinamori-san if I see her at NG again." Suguru said, studying a shot of the girl. "But I won't mention anything about Shuichi. I want to see what she says."

"Well, I will most definitely be asking after Shu," Mika said. "I'm heading back to NG in a while for a meeting, then hunting her down." She lifted her elbows off the file before her when Eiri tugged at it, continuing his study. "She knows the dancer boy and about Shuichi's business at the hospital. She'll make a good source, I'm sure of it."

Poor Hinamori-san, Suguru thought sympathetically, afraid for this unsuspecting girl who would be backed into a corner by Seguchi Mika of all people.

"I'll see if I can talk to Shu about his therapy," Hiro volunteered. "I'm honestly curious about it, and maybe I can find out a little about these meds." He handed the foil pack back to Mika. "I won't mention knowing about these, however. Not yet."

"And I want to talk to Tohma," Suguru said softly. Everyone paused, staring at the keyboardist. "He might let me in on what Shuichi has been working on. And I'll talk to Shizune-san, too."

"The Jubilee singer?" Hiro asked. His expression cleared a moment later, "For more information about Shu's work directly for NG, right, I get it…"

"Good," Mika nodded. "This is looking good. But we only have another two days before the tour continues, so I expect results." Her eyes flashed at them; Eiri ignored her, still reading the file.

"Is the investigator still on Shu's tail?" asked Tatsuha.

"Yes," Mika replied. "He is and will be until the band leaves."

"You know," the monk began thoughtfully, leaning forward onto a forearm. "Ryuichi happened to mention to me that there are ways to get in and out of NG without anyone knowing. Sometimes you only need the right access codes to certain doors, if not simply riding out of the underground parking lot in a different car."

"He told you this?" Mika sat up straight, a little tense. "How did he come to volunteer this information?"

"We were just talking about how he could get away from Tohma if I ever asked him out on a date," Tatsuha explained, his small smile fading. He looked wary of Mika's sudden seriousness, and Suguru's gaze. Even Eiri had paused from his reading to look up at him. "I didn't say anything about Shuichi, his name didn't even come up."

"It didn't need to," muttered Mika, Suguru and Eiri simultaneously, in the same weary tone of voice. The three exchanged knowing looks. Hiro and Tatsuha, on the other hand, traded confused glances.

"I don't--" Tatsuha started.

"Don't worry about it," Suguru said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's not a problem."

"_What_ could have been a problem? It's just Ryuichi," Tatsuha prodded, looking a little puzzled. Hiro, however, sat back in his chair after Suguru flashed him a small smile. It warmed Suguru's heart to see Hiro had only needed his reassurance to trust that things would be alright.

"Never you mind," Mika snapped mildly at her youngest brother. Suguru and Eiri rolled their eyes.

"So now we have that _other_ nut bar to worry about," Eiri's lip curled a little at a shot of the 'nut bar' in question with an arm companionably slung over Shuichi's shoulders. Suguru knew which photo it was, and how it looked. Ryuichi was standing with his body pressed to Shuichi's side from shoulder to knee. He had thought Eiri might react this way and it was rather funny, though it was probably wise of him to hide his amusement if he valued his skin.

Very wise, he thought, when Eiri outright glowered at another photo. Suguru had been smiling a little at that particular photo earlier, of Shuichi and Sjolund-san, considering the producer's resemblance to the writer. That look on Eiri's face meant nasty business, and to think all it took was seeing Shuichi sitting close to Sjolund-san to bring it out. It was obvious the writer was still rather possessive of Shuichi.

Because the synth-master had been watching, he noticed Eiri sigh. A sad but resigned expression flitted across the writer's face before returning to that indifferent mask he wore most of the time. Suguru wondered, and not for the first time, if Eiri really would be able to convince Shuichi he was sorry.

One more chance, Suguru thought, one more chance could be all they needed for them both to find happiness.

* * *

"_Voices tell me I should carry on,_

_But I am swimming in an ocean all alone…_

_Baby, my baby, it's written on your face,_

_You still wonder if we made a big mistake_

_I try to go on like I never knew you,_

_I'm awake but my world is half asleep…_

_I pray for this heart to be unbroken, _

_But without you all I'm going to be is Incomplete_

_I don't want to face this world alone,_

_But I need to let you go…_

_I try to go on like I never knew you_

_But without you all I'm going to be is, Incomplete…(1)"_

…Someone else's words saying clearly and precisely what he felt. Shuichi stood with his eyes closed, letting the tears run down his cheeks. It hurt to say such things, never mind it was in English and he didn't speak the language well; he knew what he was saying.

Knowing Eiri was watching him say these things made him want to never open his eyes again. It made an ache throb in his chest, made his self-consciousness peak. Thankfully, Hiro came over and pulled him close, stepping between him and the glass wall of the studio.

Suddenly, somehow, Shuichi felt better. Like things were just going to be alright; Hiro had always had that power. Hiro always seemed to know when Shuichi needed him to step in. When his best friend held him like this, it felt good and he felt safe. Like even if he couldn't hold his life together, he knew someone would hold HIM together for him. Really, it was his love for Hiro, these people he cared about, and the way they showed him they needed his love, that kept him sane.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"No worries, buddy," Hiro muttered into his hair, pulling the singer closer still.

Shuichi smiled. Hiro being like this, quiet, not prying and not asking difficult questions… he knew it was probably killing his best friend. He had to explain himself soon.

Soon.

He pulled away only a little, but Hiro released him immediately and stepped away; unthreatening, without insistence, carefully polite. Shuichi appreciated it so much, looked up into Hiro's worried eyes and murmuring, "If it wasn't for you, I don't know…" his voice failed, breaking.

Hiro's brows drew together, and a hand reached for him. It was apparent the guitarist could see how much Shu was suffering. There was worry in Hiro's grey eyes, but a tinge of exasperation and frustration as well. This was not looking good. Shu smiled, trying to assure his best friend that all would be well. Gods, Tohma did this so well all the time. He ought to have learned better from hanging out with that man for so long; he should be stronger than this.

With that in mind, the need to be strong, to protect those he loved, Shuichi stood up straight. He squared his shoulders, put his calm smile in place and stepped away. He was glad rehearsal was over, that the song, Incomplete, had been saved for last. He could leave and it would be okay, it would not be evidence of his weakness.

They were at NG, doing a last minute rehearsal for the concert. It was the first working day after the week's vacation, March the 10th, and they would be leaving for Toyama in a few hours.

Making his way down the hall of the studio, Shuichi nodded to thanks and greetings. Stepping into the empty lounge, he plodded over to the shelf in the corner where he'd left his bag. He wanted something sweet to eat, something comforting and reassuring. The medication he was on made him a feel like he was high on something, but without the pleasant lightness. Instead, though it didn't hurt, he could feel his heartbeat thump behind his eyes.

He dimly heard the door shut behind him, delayed somehow. It was when he heard the lock snap that he paused a moment then turned.

Eiri.

"Hey," Shu gave what he knew was only a wan smile. He carefully pulled his hand away from massaging between his eyes.

"That song hurt," the writer said.

"I wasn't singing it for you," Shu turned his back.

"I didn't mean me," Eiri said. The singer heard the snap of a lighter and smelled the familiar scent of Marlboro cigarettes.

"Oh," the singer muttered, ignoring the hollow sensation filling his chest. He moved slowly toward the shelf again, but Eiri stepped into his path.

"Why do you isolate yourself, Shuichi?" he asked softly. Eiri looked serious, worried, annoyed and concerned all at once.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Feeling annoyed, Shuichi attempted to push past the writer. Bigger and stronger, Eiri couldn't be easily budged. Shu sighed, "Please move."

"Not until you answer my question," Eiri insisted calmly. "I'm worried about you."

"Stop saying things like that," Shuichi said wearily, closing his eyes and bringing up a hand to cradle his forehead with his fingertips. This was giving him a headache. Correction, it was making his headache worse. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"I can say whatever the damn hell I please," Eiri said casually, making Shuichi smile a little.

"You always did," he kept his eyes closed. "Anything at all, you said it." Even with his eyes shut, he could feel Eiri tense up.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It hurts, Eiri," Shuichi whispered, a little accusingly, half meaning his heart but also clutching his pounding head. He immediately felt himself being slowly wrapped in a gentle embrace. Turning his head, he let it rest on Eiri's shoulder. The writer rubbed his back soothingly and Shuichi breathed in the familiar scent of Eiri's Gin & Tonic cologne. A little while later, with a sigh, he pulled away, but smiled.

"Now move!" he said, eyes narrowing with mock severity. "You stand between me and my Pocky at your peril!" With a frown as fake as Shuichi's wrath, Eiri stepped away from before the shelf. Shuichi reached up to the top shelf and into his bag, to pull out his treat.

Unexpectedly, Shuichi felt the writer poke him under his extended arm and he let out a startled giggle, dropping the Pocky box. He gasped a moment later, eyes widening as he slapped a hand over his mouth.

"The hell was that?!"

"Nothing!" Shuichi snapped, bending, with a huff, to retrieve his Pocky.

"That was _not_ nothing…"

Shuichi glared. And Eiri suddenly developed a very nasty gleam in his eye…

Self-protectively, the signer wrapped an arm around his middle, throwing up a hand to ward the novelist away. Taking a slow step forward, Eiri smirked evilly and raised both hands, fingers wiggling. Shuichi backed up a step and the writer matched him with a step forward.

"No…" the boy whispered, backing further away, fearful.

Eiri smiled.

"No!" Shuichi whirled and ran for the door. He made it two steps before the writer's left arm swept under his own, and grabbed him across his chest to clutch at the upper arm of his right. He was pulled fiercely backward, and crashed into Eiri's chest. Nearly immobile, he could do nothing as his attacker's right hand sneaked under his arm…

He screamed. An instant later, it melted into mad laughter as he collapsed. Kneeling on the floor, Shuichi twisted, breathlessly giggling, unable to wrench away or fight back.

"U-uncle!" Shuichi gasped, choking on his laughter. "Uncle!"

Eiri tickled the singer a little longer, chuckling, but quickly relented. He smiled down at Shuichi, the boy effectively pinned between the writer's arms and knees. Leaning back and looking up over his shoulder, Shuichi smiled up at Eiri.

"You've never done that before," the singer commented, smiling happily.

"You've never been such a brat before."

"Don't call me a brat!"

"Or you'll what?" Eiri wiggled his fingers threateningly.

Shuichi gulped, giggling nervously. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak but his cell phone rang and Eiri kindly let him go.

-

"Hello?" Shuichi's face broke into a big grin. "Hey! How's it going?"

Shuichi reached up, pulled his back pack from the shelf, and went to a nearby couch to sit down. Pulling out his notebook as he listened to whatever the other person was saying, the singer grinned like a loon.

"Sounds good! Have you spoken to them yet?"

Eiri wondered who it was, and why this person had the power to make Shuichi smile like he meant it. There was a nasty urge to grab the phone away from the singer and demand the other person… He shook his head. This was not good; jealousy was not a good thing.

But was it just him or was this smile not as bright as the one earlier, when he'd been tickling the boy…

"Uh huh, I know… No, I don't think so…" Shuichi scribbled in his notebook a little, obviously taking notes. "Ah, well _that_ would be better… Yeah, I can do that… Okay, then!" He snapped his notebook shut. "I'll speak to Sachiko and have her call you right away, don't worry." After the goodbyes, Shuichi ended the call but immediately placed one of his own. He lifted his other hand to his temple and massaged a spot there but quickly dropped the hand a moment later.

Eiri pretended not to see… or listen.

"Hello, Sachiko!"

_Ah-hah, her…_

"I just spoke to Mattieu. He came up with some interesting plans for Jubilee and me, could you give him a call and sort out the details?" Shuichi paused to listen, again opening his notebook to write. "Okay… No, I didn't know about that… Did she reschedule me a time?" Scribble… the singer glanced over at him nervously but Eiri ignored it. "That's okay, then. I'll call her tomorrow, thank you. Bye!"

"So who is Mattieu and why does his name sound familiar?" Eiri asked casually. So he already knew who the guy was, there was no sense in passing up this chance.

"He's Jubilee's producer for their debut album," Shuichi replied, shoving his phone and notebook into his bag. Eiri noticed a familiar looking foil pack amongst the contents. "We're doing some work together on a few songs I wrote for the band."

"Sounds… interesting," Eiri muttered, pushing thoughts of medication out of his mind. He suddenly recalled the day he'd been out with Mika and heard about a blonde European producer Shuichi had been spotted with. He remembered how close the two had been sitting to each other in a photograph Mika's Investigator had supplied. Unpleasant sensations roiled in his stomach.

"Uh huh," the singer said sarcastically, chuckling. "I know he and I made the news a few times." He looked up as Eiri sat down next to him. "Someone said he looks a little like you and the press found that very interesting."

"Does he really look like me?" Eiri actually wanted to know, see if he was being compared.

"No."

"Good." The singer's answer had been firm, reassuring. He felt strangely better. He leaned back and put an arm casually across the top of the couch backrest. "How about Sachiko, who is she?"

"We work together on my NG stuff. You know, Toh--" Shuichi flashed Eiri a glance. "Seguchi-san doesn't always have time to take care of everything I do for him."

The singer looked rather ill-at-ease. And he'd been nervously shifting his weight a little since that talk with 'Sachiko', and his body language was closed, guarded. Not wanting the friendly air to chill, and seeing an opportunity, Eiri gestured for Shuichi to take the empty seat on the couch next to him. When Shu curled up, as he usually did these days, the boy's shoulders leaned on his arm. He would have preferred skin to skin contact but this was fine too. Shuichi looked so tired, and his eyes were a little red.

"Hey," he said moments later, no longer able to resist.

Shuichi turned to look up into Eiri's eyes with questioning eyes. There was a touch of pain there, too. A sadness that made his heart clench.

"Come here," he gestured with his other hand at the space vacant directly next to him. The corner of his mouth turned up, a very small, welcoming and friendly smile. Looking a little surprised but very willing, Shuichi scooted over and pressed against his side.

"Thanks…"

"Anytime," he prodded Shu's ribs teasingly, chasing away the hesitation. He enjoyed the warmth which crept into those purple eyes. "You know that, right?" he asked, tone a little serious.

"Yeah, I do." Shuichi smiled and, without a trace of reluctance, snuggled into Eiri's side a little. "Thanks."

Abandoning any sort of casual intention, Eiri moved his arm off the top of the couch and draped it over Shuichi's shoulders. He gently pulled the singer close and kissed the top of his head. Before Shuichi could stiffen from the show of affection, Eiri loosened his hold and leaned back into the couch, adopting a leisurely posture.

One step at a time.

* * *

In Katsuko Naoki's professional opinion, the good part about Shuichi was that he was cheerful, resolutely positive and refused to live in the past.

He had a lot of love to give, enforced by an amazing perception of the world that was… unique, in the psychiatrist's experience.

From having grown up in a loving and cheerful family he had been thrust out into the world quite suddenly. So unsuspecting; to be raped by a rival, and still yet further taken advantage of by the man he loved;, pushed out into the public eye so early in his spotlight of a career, for each movement and decision in his life since then to be subject to scrutiny and contempt… It must have taken sheer force of will to accept each of these demanding challenges and move forward without losing who he is and wishes to become.

She doubted anyone would ever really understand the power of that will, or Shuichi's passion. Who could grasp how he moved forward with a goal in mind, reaching for something that only he saw? His belief in himself was what, in her opinion, kept him on his feet. He simply believed that he would achieve what he had set out to do.

"I don't want to be what everyone tells me to be, what people think I should become," Shuichi had once told her, "Because I want to be just me, just who I am. And maybe if I'm lucky enough, I might make my own world… I might build something that I can believe in."

He knew it instinctively, as a child knows it can walk, that he would succeed. He somehow understood that he need only pursue his goal long enough to actually get to it –yet he never seemed to consider he might fail. Failure itself to him, it seemed, was a whole other story. Naoki considered what it might mean, to have your world snatched out from under your feet, to have the essence of who you are questioned. She wondered how one could live with that. For that was, she believed, was what Shuichi was going through.

He believed and had faith in his own decision and his heart… but was betrayed. The first time it happened, when he'd first received the news about his health, he had been able to move forward because he'd had someone to protect. He had made the decision to move past it for someone else's sake, driven by love and dedication. However, the second time, his lover's betrayal… It must have been shattering for him to realise that he could not count on something which he had previously considered infallible.

But he wouldn't talk much about it.

Yes, the good part about Shuichi was that he was cheerful, resolutely positive, and refused to live in the past . . .

It was also the bad part.

-

"I used to have a hard time writing songs," Shuichi admitted, his voice soft over the telephones line to Naoki's ears. "Apparently, all songwriters have that when the pressure starts, after the initial high fades. They either don't recover or they just pick up pace somewhere and people think it's because they've practiced." He sighed, his serious tone of voice strong and certain down the phone line. "They're wrong. It's because the writer has found inspiration. And they either hang on to it or get better at finding it." The singer paused, huffed a breath, then continued,

"Me, I found mine… or it found me, whatever. All I know is, I used to have just bits and pieces of music in my head… then when my inspiration came to me, the pieces all swooped in, melted together and concentrated themselves into this one essence, this one being. As far as I am concerned, that's the personification of my music right there. Music on legs named Yuki Eiri."

Naoki laughed, not unkindly.

"Have you ever told him this?" she asked.

"Never," Shuichi said, without a trace of wistfulness or regret.

"Will you ever tell him?" Naoki asked.

"I don't think so, Naoki-san," Shuichi sighed. "He wouldn't understand."

She almost sighed herself. "You do realise that I am all for you telling him all these things you have told me, don't you, Shuichi?"

"I know." She could hear the smile in his voice, "You've made your opinion clear."

"I have tried to ask a few times though you never really answered," She took a breath, hoping this might be the breakthrough she'd been aiming for. "But why will you not tell him? Why won't you try to let him in?" There was a long silence in which she did not hear him fidget or move on the other end of the phone. She was hoping, waiting, but it seemed this would not be the time. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.

"I'm afraid," Shuichi said softly, hoarsely. He was crying. "I'm afraid to let him back in." Naoki sadly listened to Shuichi sob. "When I found out I was ill back when I still had him, I wanted to protect him… and he went into someone else's arms. My dishonesty was just that-- dishonesty. But that was all it took to drive him into betraying our relationship. My illness would be something beyond him, something he would have no idea how to deal with. It's ridiculous to assume that any good will come out of resuming my relationship with him, no matter how much I might want to."

"I apologise for pushing you to answer, Shuichi." Naoki felt an ache in her chest, a familiar one which indicated she might be too compassionate to the boy to help. She knew her limits, religiously kept within them and this was no where near her limit… but she still worried about the little singer. "And I'm sorry it hurts you so much. I hope for the best in all you plan for yourself."

"Can we stop now?" He sounded small and lost. Yet at the same time, there was a hint of controlled anger in his tone.

"Yes," She smiled, trying to infect her voice with her positive feelings, the same way Shuichi could sound heartbroken and miserable as he'd just done. "We'll talk again in a few days. Just because you're on tour, doesn't mean you can't continue with therapy. I want to help, Shuichi, you know that."

"Yes, Sensei, I do." He seemed to be regaining control of himself. "Thank you."

* * *

(1) Backstreet Boys, "Incomplete"

Review or comment, please!


	16. Bite Me

Chapter 16

Bite me

* * *

The day before at NG on the tenth of March, Shuichi had been happy to sit in the circumference of Eiri's arms. They had been getting closer, and the writer felt he'd been making progress. But their new-found "companionable relationship" was quite… dissatisfying. 

Today, on the eleventh of March at the Toyama City concert hall, Eiri blew a breath of frustration out his nostrils, chin cupped in a propped hand on the armrest of his backstage seat. His eyes looked past the backstage chaos, thinking about a certain pink-haired irritant. There was something missing in their relationship, for all that it was quite companionable, and the writer was all too aware of that emptiness, that absence. He was _not_ pleased. It was obvious Shuichi was holding him at arm's length, was being very careful about conduct in his presence, and it was damnably frustrating to not know how to get the little singer to relax.

Then there was Shu's temper problem…

Like when he'd been surprised that Shuichi loved Tabasco sauce on his pizza; that Shu liked cats, and kids, and fishing? Or when Shu'd floored him by offering an administrator's wife advice on medicating her infant, then turned around and changed the brat's diaper? Turned out Shuichi had a family, a younger sister and three small cousins he'd helped raise, family his lover of two years had never even heard of, let alone visited.

Just more things he really ought to have known. Even Suguru knew! His surprise had earned him annoyed glances from Shuichi over the weeks since they had become 'friends'.

Earlier that day, the keyboardist had asked if Shuichi would be taking the few days between concerts to run a quick visit to his parents' home in Yamanashi. Eiri had never been to Shuichi's parents' home; he had not known Mr and Mrs Shindou lived there. It bothered him now that he had never made an effort to get to know the singer's family when he had always known full well what importance Shu had placed on blood relation.

He sighed.

"Show time in fifteen minutes!" K bellowed, and Eiri sat up.

He would not have much time to go and wish Shuichi luck. Already Jubilee were ready and waiting by the stage side. He pushed himself up and out of his seat, and made for the dressing room hallway. Most of the door way signs had been printed in large font on plain printer paper then tacked to doors. There were no directions marked but Eiri had paid attention enough to know where the little singer's dressing room was. He politely knocked.

"Come in!" Shuichi called. "Hi, Eiri."

The writer made his way to a chair closest to Shuichi, who was stretching out with the band trainer and physical therapist, Kazumi. There was not a lot of room in the main back stage area, but the dressing rooms were quite large here. Eiri cringed at the sound of snapping bones when Shuichi was pulled over the trainer's back.

"That looks like it hurts," Eiri commented, reclining in the canvas seat folding chair.

"What hurts is to watch Kazumi-san and Hiro spar," Shuichi shot back, rotating his arms. "Have you seen them go at it? They really scare me!"

"Hiro's a real handful now. He's gotten a lot better, Shuichi," the trainer said. He paused to give Shu a grin, "When are you going to resume your own lessons?"

"Shuichi fights?!" Eiri blurted, incredulous.

"He was pretty good to begin with, actually," Kazumi volunteered, saving a possible awkward situation… if Shu's furrowed brows at him were any indication. Shit, not another one. "He was more of a street fighter when we first started, a little rough around the edges. Even then he had naturally good reflexes and his flexibility's amazing--"

"Kazumi-san," Shuichi interrupted with that strange press-pleasing smile on his face that Eiri had come to truly detest. "I'm sure Eiri knows all that already." The singer tilted his head down, but the writer had already seen the expression of irritation cross Shu's youthful face.

"Ah," Kazumi rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "You're right. After all, you two were together for years. It would only be natural he would know everything about you."

Natural, Eiri thought, feeling a little guilty. Shuichi didn't even look at him.

Kazumi-san turned to Shu and gave a quick half bow. "I apologise, but you're a quick learner and a pleasure to teach, it's great to work with you and I had to say so. I do hope you reconsider, now that we have time on tour." The trainer and former student smiled at each other.

"I'll try to do some training with you for the rest of the tour, Kazumi-san," Shuichi promised, chuckling a little. "But you have to help me drag Suguru into it, too!"

"Deal!" And, with a wave, Kazumi stepped out to go attend to the other band members in case they needed anything.

"He's pretty passionate about teaching," Shuichi said, turning to face him fully. Pausing, Eiri looked the little singer over.

Shuichi was dressed in low-slung purple lycra and leather trousers. His silver tank top shimmered, accentuating the glitter powder generously distributed across every inch of exposed skin. The top had lace trim at its hem, neckline and arm holes. A strand of the same silver lace was also wound at his throat like a choker. His bubblegum pink hair had been sculpted into chunky pink flames, with slender wisps artfully feathered about to frame his face. From his left ear, a tiny amethyst and crystal cross dangled from a silver earring.

"You like the earring, huh?" Shuichi asked, amused as Eiri stared.

"That ear isn't pierced," Eiri said with certainty in his tone. Well, at least he knew _that_… right?

"It isn't," Shuichi confirmed, turning to the mirror; Eiri relaxed a little. Shu angled his head and shook it a little to swing the cross a bit. "But I liked it as soon as I saw it in a shop window this morning. Lucky for me, one of the craftier make-up artists cut off the prong and glued a snap-on mechanism to it." He looked over his shoulder at Eiri. "Hey, you have a piercing, don't you? Here!" Shuichi swept up an earring box off the dressing table and shoved it at Eiri. The writer could see the jeweller's box contained the earring's matching pair. "You can have that one."

"Thank you," He said automatically, startled. He looked down at the earring in his hand with some surprise before looking up into Shuichi's eyes. Suddenly, he realised Shu was looking a little startled himself, as though he had only just realised what he had done.

"If you don't want it," Shuichi rushed, embarrassed, stepping forward and making to take the box back, "You really don't have to--"

"No!" Eiri pulled his arm back instantly, taking the box in his hand out of Shuichi's reach. "I want it."

Again, both were embarrassed, the awkwardness a testament to how fragile things still were. Their gazes met and there was a moment of understanding: they had both just done something automatic and natural, not really thinking about how their actions might seem to the other. It had been based on their history together, though it was something which did not really apply anymore.

"Well, now we're even," Eiri commented wryly, giving the singer a small smile.

"Yeah," Shuichi said slowly, dropping his outstretched hand, "Sure."

"Thank you for the earring," Eiri said sincerely. He looked at the pair on Shu's ear and looked away before saying, "Now we can match."

"Match..?" The singer looked aghast.

"Shuichi?" Eiri asked, a little alarmed at the singer's expression. "Are you alright?"

"You said 'we can match' and I know you did!" Shuichi pointed accusingly. "You did!"

"I did," the writer slowly confirmed, a little puzzled. He looked into Shuichi's wide eyes, not understanding, but then those lovely purple eyes gleamed.

"Why, Eiri," Shuichi cooed slyly. "You can actually be romantic in real life, too…"

"Shut up," Eiri said instantly, but his cheeks coloured a little. Chuckling, Shuichi shook his head in disbelief.

"You just keep amazing me everyday," he said. He sighed hesitantly then gave the writer a shy glance. "Do you…" he paused and Eiri held his breath. "Do you want me to help you… with that?" he gestured at the earring in the box.

"Yes, please," Eiri held the box toward Shuichi immediately. Best not to give the kid time to change his mind.

Shuichi took the box from the writer's hand, plucked out the earring, and slowly stepped forward. Eiri bent forward a little, tilting his head to give Shuichi access. Unbidden, memories of giving Shu a different kind of access with this same movement flashed through his mind. Not good, not good… He took a steadying breath at the same time Shuichi did. Awkwardly, they glanced at each other, before the strangeness broke and they chuckled.

"I won't bite," Eiri said then muttered to himself, "Well, not right now anyway." There were still traces of his earlier erotic thoughts; how could there not be when he had been without Shuichi in his bed for over half a year?

"Be good, Eiri," Shuichi admonished with a teasingly wagged finger. He stepped closer easily, naturally, and reached up with the earring in hand. "Now hold still."

Luckily, it was Eiri's right ear which was more sensitive than his pierced left, but Shuichi's touch still sent tingles scattering across his scalp. He gave a small gasp, tensing, unable to stop the reaction. He looked at the singer out of the corner of his eye to check if Shu had caught his reaction.

He had.

"Still sensitive?" Shuichi snickered, eyes shining with laughter. Eiri couldn't see it, but he felt Shu breath lightly over the shell of his ear. Jerking away, the writer clapped a hand over his ear, snatching a breath sharply, and glared at the laughing miscreant.

"Don't give me a reason to retaliate…" Eiri growled threateningly.

"But I couldn't resist!" Shuichi giggled, "It's not my fault if your ear is so tempting to tickle."

"Hmph," Eiri snorted, returning to his bent position to wait for Shuichi to put the earring in his ear. Reaching up with both hands, Shu deftly fastened the jewellery in place. Flicking a finger at the dangling cross, he smiled.

"It looks nice on you," he said. Eiri turned to catch the smile he had only just glimpsed sidelong… and the movement suddenly brought his face very close to Shuichi's. He remained still, forced himself to remain calm despite the nearness; he did not want to leave Shuichi's proximity but neither did he want to scare the singer away.

"Thanks," the writer murmured, eyes roving over the familiar features. He remembered how that face looked, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping a little, in the throes of passionate completion…

"You're welcome," Shuichi whispered back, smiling comfortably as though unaffected by Eiri's nearness.

Despite being disappointed that Shu wasn't as bothered as he, Eiri enjoyed being near the singer. It was not as rare as before, touching and being near each other, but he wanted to savour each one. That they could tease and banter was what made things strange; they had never done that in the past. Even now, it was strange to speak to Shuichi as 'Shuichi' and not as 'brat' or 'kid'.

He still thought of that, still applied those words to the singer before him, no matter everything he had learned. Maybe those had become endearments after all… and he missed using them. He missed teasing Shuichi.

There was so much he missed.

-

-

-

On the twelfth of March, the day after the Toyama concert, Eiri took Shuichi out to lunch. It wasn't planned, it had been entirely impromptu…

Oh, who was he kidding? Eiri had been paying attention to Shu's habits and had managed to be in the right place at the right time. He managed the appropriate expression and self-possession to not let his invitation sound lewd or date-like or anything Shuichi might feel wary about. He was not refused, and off they went on their merry way.

How bloody charming.

Eiri growled a little to himself, feeling more than a little foolish when they were led to their table in a small and quaint café. The crew would all be leaving after lunch, off to Nagoya in the Aichi district, so this lunch could not run too late. It was better this way, Eiri told himself. This way, never mind if things were going really well and he might wish that they could keep going, they would be forced to stop before he could make a fool of himself.

Yes, a good thing.

"The fish sashimi platter, two bowls of rice, and two bowls of miso soup, please," Eiri ordered politely, sparing the bored waitress a small smile. Shuichi liked fish. Thank the Gods he knew that now.

"One Espresso and a can of Budweiser for him," Shuichi said, "And I'll have a milk tea."

"With pearls?" (1) Asked the waitress dutifully.

"Yes, please," Shuichi nodded. He smiled at Eiri across the table, whose lips curved a little back. "We're even."

"Maybe," Eiri murmured mysteriously. Ah, so the brat had noticed his efforts, how he had ordered the kid's favourite afternoon meal. The singer had matched him with the can of Bud and the requisite afternoon espresso. But really, Shuichi would win these little contests hands down, the boy had done his homework; it had been years in the making. Maybe the offer of 'even' was a kind acknowledgement, a small appreciation that he was trying at all…?

"We're even," Shuichi chuckled, tone more firm this time. "I'm enjoying just being with you; I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad, too," Eiri muttered, keeping his voice low though he was being careful to vocalize his feelings, as his therapist had advised.

"You keep saying things like that." With a shake of his head, Shuichi regarded Eiri curiously. "Are you _sure_ you're Uesugi Eiri?"

"I'm sure," Eiri growled, rolling his eyes a little, mock annoyed. He knew Shuichi was aware he wasn't really annoyed. It had become all the more apparent over the past weeks on tour that the little singer could still read him well.

"Writer and monk?" Shu prodded, doubtfully, "Sibling to Mika and Tatsuha, Seguchi Tohma's brother-in-law?"

"Shut up."

"Make me…"

"I'm about to, as soon as the food arrives," the writer grumbled. "You should be hungry enough to eat enough for the both of us by now. Where is that waitress?" He glanced about as though looking for the girl, though his attention was held by Shu's teasing smiling face.

"Not here! In the mean time, you'll just have to deal with me!" giggled the little singer.

Gods, he was so adorable.

"I'm sorry," Eiri said suddenly, sober and startled.

"Why?" Shuichi tilted his head over to one side, looking worried.

"I can't tease you back about you being different," Eiri said slowly, softly. "I didn't know you all that well before to be able to tell the difference from who you are now. I'm sorry." His breath caught when anger flitted across Shuichi's face fleetingly. But it was quickly replaced by that carefully pleasant expression the singer wore when dealing with media personnel… or him.

"Don't worry about it." Shuichi said pleasantly, the one hand on the table curling into a little fist which Eiri tried not to stare at. Shu turned to smile up at the waitress who had just arrived with their food, dismissing their conversation.

Shit.

-

-

-

On the evening of the thirteenth of March, Eiri told Shuichi, "You're such a brat."

It just slipped out. He meant it as an endearment, it was said in jest. But Shuichi's calm expression cracked, his face twisted and he glowered at Eiri with such hostility, Hiro automatically reached to hold the singer back just in case. But Shu did nothing. Turning stiffly away, he'd marched off, leaving Hiro, Suguru, K and Eiri staring dumbly. Naturally, Hiro flashed Eiri a look before jumping up and following after his best friend.

Suguru sighed and shook his head at Eiri, and K snorted before leaning back in silence.

"He's got every right to be angry," Suguru said. Eiri nodded, pulling out a cigarette, glad they were on the Nagoya City concert venue steps outside in the night air where he could smoke. Lighting up, he regarded the synth-master calmly, deciding he might need some back up after all.

"He's got every right to be angry with me," he said evenly. "I have been waiting for him to break."

"He will resist to the very end," said K, looking away distantly.

"Then maybe he needs a little prodding in the right direction," Suguru suggested, arching a brow at the irritated writer.

"Excuse me?"

"Wind him up," K double translated, speaking in English.

"Bite me," Eiri said bluntly, getting to his feet.

"We aren't blind to what you are trying to do, Eiri-san," Suguru said smoothly, sounding ominously like a certain cousin of his. "And if you want to make any more progress, this is probably the best move you can make."

The writer paused, scowling at the little keyboardist who stared coolly back.

"This time, and don't make me regret making this overture," Suguru gave Eiri a hard look. "You'll have help."

Eiri sat back down and K began to laugh.

-

-

-

Rude, impatient and as cranky as he had ever been, and it had been so _easy_; it really ought to frighten him, how quickly he had slid back into his uncaring persona.

But Eiri knew what he was doing. It was also a lesson for him, too, seeing how being nice and proper really was a matter of choice. It was simply paying attention and making small choices every day, building a new habit and easing out of the old. He finally pulled the last straw that night, fourteenth of March, when he went to fetch the singer from his hotel room and had summoned him by calling for 'the brat.'

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" Shuichi stormed, face flushed, fists clenched and eyes blazing.

Uh oh.

"Nothing is wrong with me, I'm a bastard remember?" Eiri snapped back, careful not to look into those haunting violet eyes so as not to be swayed. He hoped to the Gods he was doing the right thing.

"Yes!" Shuichi screamed at him. "You are a bastard! I don't know what I was thinking believing you had changed!" He paced a little, still glowering. "And I'm an idiot!"

"No," Eiri corrected, looking at the door in a carefully schooled bored expression. "You're a brat."

"Brat, idiot, it doesn't make a difference!" Shuichi snarled, "And you're a _Liar!_"

"Come on, is that all I am, a Liar?" Eiri scoffed, shrugging casually as he turned toward the window. "You can call me something worse than that, can't you? After all, I have been--"

"You're a lying bastard!" the singer interrupted. "A cold-hearted conniving son-of-a-bitch!"

Ouch.

"You've been playing me all this time, haven't you?" Shuichi shouted, tears spilling over down his cheeks. He was shaking, standing stiffly with his hands clenched at his sides. "Being nice, driving us around, worrying about me, it was all a trick!"

"That would be so like me, wouldn't it?" Eiri growled, unable to stop himself from being annoyed that Shuichi could be so quick to assume he was so bad.

"Pretending, scheming!" Shuichi sobbed, his voice taking on a pained edge. "Why, Eiri?" At the sound of that pained cry, Eiri had to pause, focus. He had to remember what he needed to do with this opportunity.

"Why else except to have some fun?" He asked tauntingly, still watching Shuichi only out of the corner of his eye. "You're such a foolish brat; it's so much fun to play with you. You're so easy to trick…"

"You disgusting..!" Shuichi flew at him, little fists cocked to strike. Eiri dodged and blocked, surprised at the little singer's fervor, glad to have been forewarned of the kid's skill. "Two-timing," Punch. "Disloyal," Kick. "No morals," Knee jab. "_Betrayer!_"

Eiri avoided most of them, took a few strikes when his half-hearted blocks were not quite as solid. But, damn, the brat was as _fast_ as--

"Ugh," Eiri grunted when the later part of a well-timed combo hit its mark on the left side of his abdomen. Quickly, he refocused on his blocking, certain that the landed strike would embolden Shuichi to follow it up with something just as nasty. Sure enough, the singer's next blow was powerful, but it was a wild one. The writer was forced backward and he tripped over the foot of a small coffee table, just managing to direct his fall so that he landed in a nearby chair.

"Good shot," Eiri quipped, breathing a little heavily. Shuichi's eyes narrowed further at the compliment.

"Shut up!" he hissed, stepping back and giving up. His violet eyes were drowning in tears. "You didn't have to do it to me! You could have played your games on your women, on your little _toys_, why me?" He sobbed, hands clutching at his chest. He hunched over as though in pain, his voice was barely over a whisper when he said, "Why on someone who loves you?"

Not 'loved' as in past tense, Shuichi had said 'loves'.

Control crumbling, Eiri pushed himself back up to his feet, stepped forward and let his concern show on his face. He opened his heart and his arms, and let the singer see how worried he was. This was it…

"I'm sorry," Eiri said hoarsely, almost begging for Shuichi to understand. "I didn't want her more than I wanted you. I was drunk and it was no excuse, and I knew better…" He swallowed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. He slowly reached for Shuichi's shivering form. "I knew better but I didn't think. I was a fool, Shuichi…" He took a deep breath, gently curling the fingers of one hand under the singer's chin, "I was such a fool."

Shuichi gasped, mouth dropping open slightly. Those impossibly large purple eyes glittered wetly, widening with obvious shock. Nervously, the boy swallowed, his tongue briefly touching to moisten his lips. The writer almost groaned, having witnessed the small, skittish gesture. His loins tightened and his senses became far too aware of the boy's mild cologne. His thumb, from the hand lightly gripping Shu's smooth chin, arched up to slide along the bottom of that rosy bow. Shuichi sighed softly, and Eiri drew a ragged breath in reaction.

Without having been aware of it, Eiri had reached up with his other hand to cradle Shu's face. He had stepped forward, closer. And now, it was so easy to bend, just a little and ghost his lips over Shuichi's petal-soft, half-open mouth…

The singer sighed and Eiri swallowed the soft breath. He gently closed his lips around Shu's bottom lip, pressing a soft kiss upon the tender flesh then opened his mouth again to close his lips upon the boy's upper lip. Shuichi responded, amethyst eyes slipping shut and kissing back tentatively. Eiri let his own eyes close, giving in to the kiss, angling his head to slant his mouth over Shuichi's. He gently slid the tip of his tongue over the singer's lips and was pleased to feel them part further in silent invitation. Obliging, he slid his tongue past…

Gods, Shuichi's mouth was so wet and so warm..! The taste of the boy sent tendrils of liquid fire swirling down ever nerve ending in Eiri's body. He almost could not bear it, could not keep himself away…

Had it not been for the alarm bells ringing in his head. With a gasp, he forced himself to move away but gently pulled the singer further into his arms.

"Please," Eiri whispered, closing his arms around the boy. It was a plea, really. A beg for Shuichi to accept his apology, to accept that he had not meant no hurt, that he was truly a different person now.

"You're still a bastard," Shuichi muttered, but his thin arms clung to the writer.

His hands fisted in Eiri's shirt and he leaned into the embrace like never before. Hurting and pained, Shuichi still fought to forgive. Eiri could see it, he knew it, and he loved Shuichi more than ever because of it.

-

-

-

Shuichi avoided Eiri the next day.

Cursing inwardly, the writer respectfully gave Shu his space. Everyone was busy with setting up for the following day's concert anyway. Without complaint, he allowed himself to be ignored. He stood a bit away from conversations but stayed near enough to be of help. He continued to drive the bands around and play nice with everyone. He nodded apologies to the roadies he had 'pretended' to be nasty to the previous day; most of them had been in on it and so there had been no problems getting back to being part of the crew.

He gritted his teeth and bore with it. When lunch time came around and Shu still refused to meet his eyes, he contented himself with frowning. However, by late afternoon, he could not help but scowl _and_ growl.

"Shuichi," Eiri cornered the singer in his dressing room where they'd been laying things out for the next day's concert. "I told you, yesterday was all pretend. The nastiness, the rudeness, none of it was real. You know that, don't you?"

The singer bowed his head, shoulders slumping. Oops.

"But the apology was genuine," he gruffly amended, wishing he had a cigarette in hand to calm his discomfort.

"Stop it." What?

"Excuse me?"

"I'm the one who should be apologising," Shuichi's hands fisted, "I'm the one who attacked you."

"Well, it was about bloody time," he snorted. Shu looked up at him, startled.

"But I--"

"No, you really needed to," Eiri interrupted, as gently as he could. "Remember? I said you needed to let it go and that when you were ready, I would be there for you."

"That was weeks ago," Shu muttered. His brow furrowed.

"Like I said, it took you long enough," Eiri mock grumbled, trying to lighten the mood.

"I thought you had forgotten." That hurt, but the writer felt he deserved it.

"I will never forget again, Shuichi," Eiri promised.

And poor Shu looked downright flabbergasted.

-

-

-

In the dressing room before the concert, Eiri made his appearance. He was 'grudgingly' supportive, and eager for further progress…

"No, it doesn't have to mean anything more," Eiri reluctantly admitted. Shuichi frowned. "I mean, our… relationship can be whatever you want it to be." The writer grumbled internally. This was not how he had wanted things to go. But it was time to lose battle to get one step closer to winning the war. He continued, "We can be friends and that doesn't have to change. However, neither do we have to stop…" Here we go. "Touching or kissing. We both benefit from them, _you_ benefit from them, and that is important to me. I won't ask you for anything more."

For now…

"No strings attached?" Shuichi looked reluctant, hesitant. But his eyes sparkled with interest and Eiri was _not_ going to let this moment pass. This was a chance; one little window of opportunity he couldn't help but exploit.

"None," He would not push, that would be a very bad idea. This would work out, he had to believe.

Shuichi sighed and looked away. That was not a good reaction. Come on, Shuichi, this is a good thing… _a good thing…_

"Are you sure?" Shuichi looked at him worriedly. "It would be very unfair, you know."

Are you kidding me?!

"No, it wouldn't really be unfair," he had to force himself to sound calm and reasonable and it was making his heart jump up his throat. "It would be… simple. You'd be in control and I'd be along for the ride. I _want_ to be along for the ride." Give some guarantees; tip the scale completely over. "And if you want to stop, you can just say so."

"Are you sure?" Shuichi asked softly, eyes shining.

_YES!!_

"Yes."

Come on…

"Okay."

"Good," Eiri smiled gently.

"Right."

"So…"

Thank you, Gods!

"Since you're about to head up on stage soon, may I kiss you good luck?" The writer smiled his most charming small smile.

Shuichi chewed on his lip a little, his demeanour wary. But his eyes glowed with warmth.

"You don't have to let me, it's alright," he was careful to give the singer his space. No pressure. Just give the space…

"Um," Shu looked pleased, uncertain and excited all at once. Eiri held out his hand.

Slowly, the singer lifted his own hand and settled it in the writer's palm. When Shuichi had curled his fingers into the grip, Eiri unhurriedly stepped forward and bent his head. Angling his chin, he pressed a soft kiss to Shuichi's cheek, studiously keeping his other hand away from the singer's body, squelching the urge to gather that small form against himself.

When the novelist straightened back up, amethyst eyes sparkled at him warmly. The expression in them was not as uncertain as before, and Eiri confidently bent his head once more, this time brushing his lips over Shuichi's lightly, briefly.

"You asked if you could kiss me for good luck," Shuichi berated jokingly, "One kiss was all you asked for, and now you've given me two! That's bad luck now."

Eiri chuckled. Shu really was a brat.

"So can I have another kiss?" the writer asked mischievously. "We can make it an odd number again and thereby restore the balance." His breath caught at the happiness in the singer's lavender eyes. But the gaze turned naughty, laughing, and Shuichi replied,

"Bite me."

* * *

(1) Tapioca pearls - commonly put into chilled milk tea in Asia, as an additional dressing for the drink. 

Please comment or review...

And this is it, everyone!! I'm setting this story aside for a while. I need a break, emotionally and to restore my creative juices. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented, your words were inspiring! Thank you, and please keep me on your author alert list, you will be the first to know when I get back to this story...

See you all again soon. Happy New Year!

-


	17. Distorted Discussions, part 1

_-_

_Author Notes:_

_Everyone has been so supportive of my creative holiday! I was really surprised and I thank those who sent me emails checking up on me. It's been a while but I hope you'll be just a bit more patient. See, because I only just started writing again I don't think I'll be back to my weekly updates… so if you please, you can add me to your author alert list and be notified when I do update..? Updates will probably be pretty irregular, as I'm still roping my ideas back in. _

_And then there's that my muse has decided to turn one of my One-Shots into a full story! Beat Life Back suddenly made a comeback with a second chapter –completely unexpectedly, mind you. Ah well, that's the muse for you…_

_Feel free to get in touch, my contact info is posted. I'm on AIM everyday, that's the best way to meet me. Thanks to LLPeepz for the reassurances, and Iname who makes me think and come up with some of the little ideas I use in my stories. Vindalootoo, my beta, who is such a dear friend and source of endless support, has been really busy so this chapter is NOT beta-read._

_Many thanks to others I have met through this site, you know who you all are. Gods, I love meeting new people and sharing ideas! In any case, enjoy the chapter… It's good to be back._

--

Chapter 17

Distorted Discussions, part 1

--

"Shit!" Eiri snarled at no one in particular, balling up the invoice and pitching it full-force at the wall.

He had forgotten. Dear Gods, he had forgotten! Had it not been the invoice for the plans he had organised, he might never have remembered the arrangements he had made for White Day at all. It was too late now, the sixteenth of March, and his carefully planned date had been prepared, had waited… and had gone down the damn drain.

"Fuck!" He gritted his teeth and paced the room. "Damn it!"

Eventually, despite the lack of an outlet, his control returned. He sighed, stopped, and sat down in a chair of his little office space. His awareness of external details returned, like how he could hear the crowd's welcome for the opening band which had just taken the stage.

It was easy to assume that in less than half an hour, Shuichi would also be starting his own performance. He sat back, thinking about what an opportunity it was he had stupidly let slip through his fingers. Damn it all, he should be thinking about nothing but romance with this 'Twelve Kisses' tour theme, Shuichi himself, and those after-concert serenades happening all the time. There had been so many reminders.

"How could I forget?!" He raked a frustrated hand through his hair, mussing the strands. With another growl, he got to his feet and marched for the door. Snatching it open…

"Oh!" Startled grey eyes widened with surprise.

"What do you want?" Eiri snarled, without thinking.

"Ah, Yuki-sensei," Katsuya stepped back nervously, holding up a placating hand. His other put his camera protectively behind his back. "I was just coming to get you, it's almost time for Bad Luck to take the stage…"

"I know that," Eiri growled, "I've been part of this tour as long as you have, did you think I'd forget the schedule?"

"Er, of course not! I just…"

"Enough." The writer sighed, letting most of his irritation out with his breath. The photographer was not at fault, and Eiri knew he was being unreasonable. Damn it. He had developed better control than this!

"Is there something I can help with, Sensei?" Katsuya timidly asked. His posture began to relax seeing the novelist calm a little.

"Not unless you can turn back time," Eiri muttered, running his hand through his hair again. "_Che_!"

"Well…" Katsuya backed up another space, as though wary his words might trigger the writer's temper again. "Maybe I can help you with… whatever you forgot?"

Eiri glared.

"You practically shouted it, it's not like I could help hearing it—"

"Enough!" The writer interrupted then heaved a heavy sigh and made to move past.

"White Day?"

Eiri froze.

"I thought so." Katsuya sounded sympathetic, "I saw the contract for the hotel restaurant… and for the arcade centre…"

It had been such a brilliant plan, Eiri thought. He had even decided to discard his reservations and get on that damn Dance Revolution machine that so delighted the little singer.

"I thought it was great idea."

"Too late now," Eiri muttered and, with long strides, moved down the hall.

Coming out into the back stage area, he could see the stage crew wrapping things up. With the concert in full swing, coordination and hospitality crew had the biggest work. The novelist tried to stay out of the way, practice from the past few months put to very good use. A few people spared him a wave or smile, which Eiri was careful to return in some form –mostly in way of a brief nod. They were used to him now, and he to them.

"Welcome to the Aichi Concert backstage area!" Boomed a large, American-accented voice, "And this gentleman will be your guide for tonight. As Bad Luck's manager, I have a few other things to do, so please excuse me-- Ah, on second thought, Yuki-san!"

Eiri froze, wincing a little at the back stage group's universal squeal at his name. Frowning, he turned to face the oncoming gunman, knowing better than to try to outrun the crazy American who, at this point, was heavily under concert-time stress. Besides, the mad man could simply shoot him over the heads of the many native, shorter Japanese folk about. He stood a head taller than most…

"Can I help you?" He asked politely, though his tone implied he would rather chew broken glass. He turned around politely, tolerance stretching to its limit.

"Of course!" K replied, in English. Switching back to Japanese, he continued on a low voice through his clenched teeth. "You can give those nice high-paying folks over there some attention."

"As you wish," Eiri agreed readily enough, having noticed how K discreetly caressed one of his thankfully still-holstered Magnums. He plastered on his media smile, waved at the group of six and called, "Welcome back stage."

They replied with fan-like gasps and squeals. Not caring to be cornered and forced into fan-dealing mode, Eiri quickly ducked around K and made for the stage-side entrance where he, as had become habit, would meet Bad Luck before they took the stage. He made a mental note to call Miho-san and have flowers sent to his lawyer.

Thank God dealing with the tour's promotions wasn't part of his tour contract.

--

"Maybe I might be able to persuade her?" K offered, hands efficiently disassembling his magnum for a routine cleaning. Behind him, Hiro shut Shuichi's room door behind him as he came to join Suguru and K in the living room of their suite apartment.

"I doubt shooting a _woman_ would get us anywhere," Suguru said dismissively. He nodded to Hiro as the guitarist paused beside him. "Excuse us."

Following the guitarist out into the hall, Suguru came to stand beside Hiro to the guitarist's left by the hall railing. For a few silent moments, they stood looking down the open space of the centre of the building to the water fountain in the reception hall below. Turning to face Hiro, the synth-master rested his left elbow on the railing and stepped up very close to Hiro's side.

"As I was telling K, Hinamori-san gave away nothing. But it was the way she was so self-confident about her place, about how I could not shake her, that threw me off."

Hiro just nodded, still looking down at the fountain, expression distant.

"Hiro?" Suguru lay a gentle hand on the guitarist's shoulder blade. "Talk to me?"

"I'm just really worried," the guitarist admitted softly. "I think this worse than any of us really think but, for the life of me, I have no idea what could be so bad!"

"Do you suppose we should intervene?"

"On what?" Hiro whispered, his voice tense, straining to keep the volume low. "We have no concept of what's going on except that now we have confirmation Shuichi's taking those damn pills. He's sick, I know it! He must be really sick!"

"Seguchi-san would not have let him go on this tour if it were that serious." Suguru rubbed comforting circles into Hiro's back. "We can rely on that he will always safeguard an investment."

"Investment!" Hiro snorted, fists clenching. "Do you even remember how Seguchi-san treated Shuichi at the Launch Party? There is more to this, I just know it!"

Suguru frowned worriedly, sensing the helpless frustration mounting in his friend. He could feel it too, but with what information they had…

"I want to talk to him, ask him directly," Hiro said, "This has gone on long enough."

"I agree, Hiro," Suguru nodded. "But now is not the time, I think. Perhaps we should talk to--"

"Hiro? Suguru?" Shuichi popped his head out into the hallway, wet hair dripping a little onto the towel around his neck. "What are you two doing out there?"

"Hey Shu," Suguru turned to face the singer, careful to shield Hiro's face from the singer's view in order to give the guitarist precious moments to compose himself. "We'll be right in."

Shrugging, Shuichi ducked back inside. Giving Hiro a questioning look, Suguru felt a little calmer when the guitarist nodded reassurance. He would be fine.

--

Back inside, Suguru resumed his seat and picked up his music notebook. Hiro, ever so responsible, placed a call to the restaurant they would be going to tonight.

"Yes, just reconfirming the reservation… Winchester…. Yes, K Winchester… Yes, group of ten… Okay, Good. Thanks. Bye."

"Us three," Shuichi counted off his fingers, "K, two body guards, the two show managers, plus Katsuya and Eiri…" He sighed.

"What was _that_ sigh for, you imp?" Hiro demanded, chuckling. "Aren't you happy we're all 'back together' again?"

"I still feel weird around… Eiri." Shuichi admitted, flopping over on one of the long couches.

Hiro grinned and opened his mouth.

"Not a word!" Shuichi snapped, waving a finger at his best friend without even lifting his head or looking up. "Do _not_ comment on how I address him! Not _one_ word!"

Snickering, Hiro said slyly, "Can I talk about how you make goo-goo eyes at him?"

"I do _not_ make goo-goo eyes!"

"Please!" With a snort, Hiro insisted, "You know you want him!" The guitarist struck a theatrical pose, putting a hand on his chest and extending the other dramatically. He was as audacious as he dared as there were no worries of being overheard. He adopted a high-pitched breathy tone, making a very good impression of Shuichi's whiny voice, "Eiri! Please come back to me!"

"I don't sound like that!" Shuichi exclaimed, sitting up. K calmly continued cleaning his guns and Suguru didn't even glance up from his music notebook.

"Well that's how a _chicken_ sounds," Hiro reasoned. He tucked both hands under his arms and waved his elbows before turning to amble jerkily around the room. "Cluck, cluck!"

The singer glowered _and_ pouted before scampering to launch himself at his best friend, glomping the guitarist to the ground.

"I don't sound like that!" Shuichi repeated on a wail.

K sauntered over and without breaking stride, plucked the singer off Hiro's chest with one arm around the singer's middle. He muttered, "Try not to injure your band mate."

Tucked under the gunman's arm, Shuichi was carried feet first back toward the couch he'd occupied. Unfazed, he folded his arms and glowered from behind K's back at Hiro, allowing himself to be carried across the room. The gunman casually tossed the singer onto the couch before returning to his own seat and chore.

While Shu sat up with his arms still folded and continued to pout, Suguru didn't even blink at these antics. He stood to offer help to his band mate as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Well then, what are you going to do?" Hiro asked, accepting the synth-master's proffered hand to pull him to his feet. Shuichi mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?" Suguru and Hiro asked at the same time, tones playful. If it was what they thought he'd said…

"I said," the singer scowled. "I'm thinking about it."

"It's the end of the world," Suguru commented with an expression of mock horror. At the same time Hiro teased,

"Don't hurt yourself."

K laughed as he continued cleaning and Shuichi frowned at them all. He looked, instead of threatening, adorably cute.

"Aww," Suguru teased, "You look so _cute_, Shuichi…"

The singer renewed his efforts at a satisfactory glower which only resulted in eliciting warm smiles from his amused friends. Annoyed, he snatched up the box of Pocky from a nearby side table and munched on a stick. Despite busy eating, he maintained his pout.

"Quit eating that shit," Hiro grinned at his best friend. "We're about to go have dinner!"

"Shut up!" Shuichi grumbled. He sneered, "I burn a lot of calories being cute."

Not about to pass up the opportunity, Suguru feigned indifference by picking up his music notebook. He gave the appearance of skimming over his notes and casually said, "But you now, that cuteness IS what attracted Yuki-san to you in the first place."

Without missing a beat, Hiro turned his eyes away from Shuichi and quipped, "It was what caught my attention at the playground when I first met him, too!" K glanced over and smiled as he listened. "He got picked on by a bunch of bullies who had thought he was a girl and wanted to make 'her' cry. When they'd found out he was a boy…"

"Is that how you met?" K asked, looking genuinely interested.

"Yep!" Hiro grinned fondly at the memory. "We met again on the street near our homes, we lived rather close to each other, and then again the next day at school and I found out he was the same age as me. I figured it was fate."

"Fate!" Suguru spat scornfully, pausing from his note-writing to fire the guitarist a glare. He jabbed the air with his pencil and said, "There's no such thing! Fate isn't going to make me a better musician than Seguchi-san!"

"Still squawking about that?" Hiro, K and Shuichi all muttered in unison. The guitarist noticed out of the corner of his eye how Shuichi smiled with amusement looking entirely entertained by the bantering.

Good.

K finished re-assembling his guns and gestured he was ready to go. Hiro nodded before standing up, "C'mon Suguru, Shuichi, let's go get some dinner."

"Actually, I'd prefer to stay here and finish this piece," Suguru said, not looking up from his notebook as he made another notation. "This one is actually quite work-able."

Suguru, still as discerning as ever, ignored Shuichi's noise of indignation. The singer-songwriter had supplied the new melody and lyrics the day before, another song right on his most recent schedule of one new song every three days. It was expected, Shu being on his usual tour overdrive, churning out new material regularly, inspired by the tour experience, the people they had met… and a certain novelist.

"No fair," Shuichi muttered as Hiro waved for K to hold off pulling his gun. "_I_ wanted to stay behind tonight…"

"So stay with Suguru," Hiro suggested, as calm as ever. He shook his head at their manager, gesturing to be left to handle this.

"I can't!" the moppet exclaimed, pointing at Suguru with a pocky stick. He whined, "For dinner, he'll make me eat veggie meat or something!"

"If you continue to eat that junk I really will," snapped Suguru, getting to his feet with a nod of appreciation to Hiro. K was obviously in a 'no one stays out of my sight' mood tonight. The gathered press at the hotel driveway might've also had some influence on K's frame of mind this evening.

"Aww," Shuichi smiled, eyes glinting with humour. "Suguru _cares_ about me…"

"Shut up!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone…" Shu snickered before dashing ahead and away from Suguru's wrath, firing over his shoulder, "Wouldn't want to ruin your Seguchi-san copy reputation…"

"Come back here!" Predictably, Suguru gave chase. Hiro and K chuckled as they followed the two out the door.

"What do you think?" K asked quietly.

"Still going bad," Hiro replied just as softly. "I'm worried, but I'll wait to panic when his humour fades. He's lost that first when he nears danger zone." K gave Hiro a strange look, and the guitarist's eyes widened. "You don't think…"

"Could be," K muttered, eyes searching out their singer. "After all, he knows you just as well as you know him."

"I hope you're wrong." The guitarist shuddered. "I _really _hope you're wrong."

--

"If there is one thing I've learned about you, darling…" Mika's eyes sparkled dangerously as she stressed that last word, "is that nothing with you is _ever_ at face value."

"Not even my desire to protect those I love?" Tohma countered, sitting back in his office chair as his wife settled herself on the edge of his desk. His youthful face a little tight with annoyance, he met her gaze with stormy blue eyes. He never bothered to hide his emotions from his wife; it was useless given that she knew him too well.

"With perhaps only that exception," she conceded, tilting her head with interest at the sight of his eyes' rich azure colour. Ooh, he was annoyed alright.

The instant he became aware of his mood was intense enough to change his eye colour, Tohma had always been careful to smile so cheerily that closing his eyes would appear natural… a trick to hide the window which the Gods had compensated for against his exceptional self-control. Showing her his eyes like this… made her irritation fade.

"_Only_ exception?" Tohma repeated, eyes darkening another shade.

"Tell me this, though," Mika said quietly, expression softening, "Do you personally care about Shuichi at all?"

"_Personally_," Tohma replied bluntly, straight into Mika's eyes, "I do care."

She held his gaze for the space of a few heartbeats, watching as the deep blue there faded into a fascinating light shade neither blue nor green but somewhere in between. "And Eiri?"

Tohma turned back to a document on his desk, blowing a sharp breath from his nose that could have been mistaken for a snort had it not been so elegantly executed. Mika smiled to herself. Only Tohma could make a snort appear elegant.

"I want my investigator back…"

Tohma flashed his wife a quick frown before returning to his work, "No. Your meddling will serve only to exacerbate an already troublesome matter. Trust me in that it is NOT going to solve the problem at hand."

"Well, what IS the problem, Tohma?" Mika demanded softly, annoyed. She scooted over along the desk until she sat right on top of the papers on her husband's desk, forcing him to give her his full attention.

"Mika, you promised…"

"I know I did," she conceded though her eyes remained sharp. "I also know I should have made it part of our deal that no one _interfere _with the other rather than just not ask. But you have not been in touch with the band as I have, you don't know how bad things have become."

"As I see it, Shuichi has been--"

"Doing miserably and only seeing him with your own two eyes could confirm it because he's hiding it so well!"

Tohma frowned.

"I'm telling you," Mika insisted, voice still low, "Hiro is worried sick about him and is expecting some sort of collapse."

"Let me deal with this," Tohma said instantly, getting up from his chair. He paused when Mika reached out, awaiting her touch which did not come. She hardly ever did, not when she knew just making to touch him was as good as taking hold.

"We care about him, Tohma," she whispered, hand poised in the air. "We want to know."

"I will deal with it."

Watching her husband walk away was hard. Letting him was harder. "I know about his medication."

Tohma continued on but Mika had caught the little twitch in his step, that nanosecond hit of shock and automatically adopted nonchalance. Oh, he was good, this master of manipulation and suggestion. He was the very best… but Mika had learned from the best.

Snatching at a hunch, she asked, "Will he die?"

"He works himself too hard," Tohma sighed as he came to stand by one of his office windows. His dismissive tone of voice did not placate her. She watched him carefully as he looked out at the view for a moment then looked over his shoulder at his wife. "He… _is_ working too hard."

"You're telling me--"

"Ask the HR department what he's been up to," he cut of the beginning of her angry tirade. "You'll see there why."

"HR?" Mika slid gracefully of the desk and approached her husband. "You're saying…"

"He's a producer, Mika." He turned to look out the window again, his eyes fixing on Mika's gaze in the reflection in the glass. "As well as choreographer, columnist and marketing associate."

"What?" Mika was breathless. How did one keep all that up and still manage a tour?

"I know what Suguru-kun attempted with Hinamori-san." Tohma said, startling his wife. "She is Shuichi's assistant, his point of contact here in Tokyo. He is working like crazy, Mika, maybe to the bone if only just to--"

"Not feel." It was Mika who interrupted this time. Sadly, she considered the boy's emotions…

Shuichi had loved Eiri to a depth she had not considered anyone ever capable of feeling. Heck, no writer, not even Eiri himself, had ever written of such devotion. Breaking must be hell on earth for him. But things were getting better, she believed that. He and Eiri were on speaking terms, almost close, even, if Eiri were to be believed…

"I'm withdrawing from Nittle Grasper."

Mika started. "What?"

"That is all I can tell you without breaking my word to Shuichi." Tohma sighed again looking, she suddenly noticed, very tired. "I…

She pressed into her husband's back, wrapping loving, supportive arms around him from behind. She tilted her chin and let her jaw rest on his shoulder. Feeling Tohma lean back a little into her, she knew all was still well between them. "You can't be a husband, a company president _and_ perform in a band all at once."

"I'm sorry, Mika."

"For ruining my high opinion that there is _nothing_ in this world that you cannot do?"

Tohma's mouth curled with warmth and Mika returned the smile. As they smiled at each other, the picture of their reflection dawned upon her. Once again, as she had been many times before, she was struck by how good they looked together.

"Yes, we do, don't we?" Tohma murmured, cleverly reading the look in her eyes.

Laughing softly with delight, she turned her face and planted a wet kiss on his neck. Tohma had instantly angled his head to allow her better access, having been watching her reflection carefully. At the sound of a sighing moan, Mika lifter head and studied her husband's expression. The reflection was a little washed out by the sunlight but she caught the small glitter in his eyes.

"It's been while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," Mika agreed. She let him go and as she kicked off her heels he turned around to face her, taking her into his arms. Threading her arms over his shoulder, she clasped her hands behind his head and smiled invitingly.

Bending his head, Tohma suggested, "Let's never wait this long again."

--

Shuichi rolled over in his bed onto his left side to face his bedside window.

The curtains were open and the sunlight streamed in brightly. The window faced east, facing the rising sun, lending the room a deceptively cheery glow. For the singer, the light seemed more like a shadow… it looked strange to him. Too bright, too white… and despite the warmth, he felt cold. There was a nagging feeling in his mind, like something was wrong. It was so quiet.

He snuggled into his blankets, pushing the roiling thoughts away. His mind went back to the night before.

At dinner, Shuichi had managed not to sit beside Eiri. He'd stayed at one end of the table next to Katsuya with one of the show managers across from him, listening to them tell the usual show-trouble stories, laughing along in all the right places… keeping his mask up but not with as much effort as usual with these two people who didn't know him quite as well as a few others further along the table.

For the duration of the dinner, he had been aware of Eiri, three seats down. Peeking over a few times, he'd tried to resist the urge to stare. The yearning to be near the writer had never waned and he still wanted to be near Eiri as he always had but…

_But what?_

Fear…?

Because in as much as he wanted to touch Eiri, or maybe just bask in the comfort of being near the man he loved, seek the calm that always overcame him now when near the writer… the image of the red dress had been burned into his mind.

"Forgive and let rest," Shuichi murmured to himself, still sprawled in the bed. The words tasted strange in his mouth, a dry sort of texture to it like it didn't really matter. With a sigh he rolled over, fighting a heaviness in his body he hadn't noticed until just then, and picked up the telephone then dialled a number from memory. The silence was bothering him now.

"Katsuko," a female voice answered.

"Shindou," Shuichi replied.

"It's good to hear from you Shuichi, you caught me at a good time. How are you?" He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Calm, strangely enough," he told her, wondering at the blankness of his mind. He tried not to think about it.

"You sound… different today. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Shuichi turned back over to face the window and curled up around one of his pillows. "I just woke up, looking out the window from my bed. It's… quiet here."

"Shuichi?" She sounded worried suddenly. "How's your music?"

And then it hit him… there wasn't any. Sitting up, Shuichi suddenly realised why the light had looked funny, why his body felt heavy… Oh dear, he thought, and let himself fall back on the bed.

"Shuichi?"

He couldn't breathe. Gasping, he whispered, "It hurts, sensei…" And it did hurt, a strange and very heavy throbbing in his chest. "I can't breathe very well…"

"Try and relax," she coaxed sensibly, with calm authority. There were a series of beeps in the background. "Think about the sound of the waves. Remember? We went to the Bay once and listened to the water?"

Right. The waves. It had been part of one of his first therapy sessions with her. The positive effects of listening to waves had come up in a test she had conducted on him… and they had gone to listen to waves together, to watch the water. He breathed, concentrating…

"Hello?" Her voice came over farther away from the receiver. It sounded like sensei was on another call. "Yes… Yes, I have him on my other phone. He's in bed but he can't breathe properly… Wait, K-san! It's a panic attack, please don't..!"

Too late.

Shuichi's bedroom door came crashing open. He didn't roll over, didn't need to because K came skidding to halt in his line of sight between the bed and the window. The crazy American had a gun drawn and his mobile pressed to his ear with the other hand.

"Shuichi?" He looked a little worried as he knelt by the bedside, "Are you alright?"

"Hey! What's going on?" It was Hiro, his voice echoing down the hall. Shuichi heard his footsteps approaching… yes, definitely Hiro. Shuichi could always tell, listening to the rhythm of his best friend's stride, the tempo a familiar rhythm.

The singer turned panicked eyes up at his manager, who nodded. From behind Shuichi, Hiro's voice came from the doorway, "Shu?"

"Out!" K ordered sharply, cocking and aiming his gun over Shuichi shoulder and at the door. Maintaining his aim, he stood and marched out of Shu's line of sight. Hiro protested noisily but the singer heard his best friend's voice mute out when K shut the door and locked it. Coming back to kneel before him, K holstered his fire arm. Into the phone, he said, "I'm beside him now. Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker."

The gunman propped his phone up on the bedside table before reaching over and taking Shu's phone from his hand. Disconnecting the singer's call, K tossed Shu's phone aside.

"Sensei," K ruffled Shuichi's hair. "He seems alright."

"Good." Katsuko-sensei sighed, relief audible through the crackling speaker. "Breathing, irises, colour?"

Shuichi continued to pant a little, the tightness in his chest still persistent, while his manager checked him over. He knew K was qualified as a paramedic, had done some serious learning, in order to qualify for the many licenses and gun permits he owned. But it was still strange to be handled so gently by such a big man. He tried to smile reassuringly but suddenly the pain peaked and his vision swam…

"Not looking so good," K reported. "I'm taking him to—Shu? Shuichi!"

And darkness descended.

--

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	18. Distorted Discussions, part 2

**18 - Distorted Discussions part 2**

* * *

-

"I was careful to wear a looser blouse than normal to accommodate the damn equipment!" Mika hissed as she stepped out of the hospital ladies' room and into the hallway, fiddling with her silk blouse. "But it still looks weird."

"It looks fine, Mika-san," Suguru insisted, looking her over carefully. Hiro crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, but said nothing.

Pausing a moment to watch Suguru look her over, Mika then snapped, "Its creepy watching you look me over like that, quit it!"

Suguru rolled his eyes at her, "I'm just looking to make sure we catch where the wire shows through," he told her, "There's no need to complain."

"Suguru is right," Hiro asserted suddenly, before Mika could retort. He was still frowning. "It's such thin wire and the recorder-transmitter is tiny."

"Fine!" she huffed, and turned to saunter down the hall. Argh. Such silly children, she thought. And that stupid Shuichi, worrying her like this!

As soon as she had heard, she spared eight minutes to pass by the full glass wall of the meeting room Tohma had been in to flash him her 'I told you so' look, before taking an NG private mini plane into Nagoya. She had not waited for confirmation of Shuichi's condition. Her husband's avoidance of discussing the singer's medication had irked her and she had been determined to get to the bottom of things.

Honestly, the kid would be the death of her. Of all the… _fainting?!_ Disappointingly or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, he had been diagnosed with simple exhaustion and would be discharged that evening.

She huffed in annoyance. Well, there went _that_ avenue down the drain…

Then there was that poor Eiri had not been asked to stay away. Had it not been the little singer himself who had asked her brother not to come, Mika would have pitied whoever it was to stand in Eiri's way. The writer was not known for following other people's wishes after all. In fact, she was rather startled Shuichi had managed to get a promise out of her brother at all. Eiri had mentioned something about Shu's wish for 'keeping things low-profile' and not wanting to alarm anyone else. Thankfully, her brother had bargained himself some quality time in return for his promise… that thought calmed her a little, but not by much.

At Shuichi's door she turned and nodded to Hiro and Suguru, who were still standing where she had left them further up the hall. They nodded in return before disappearing into the small meeting room they had booked for just this occasion. She resisted the urge to fiddle with the wire and pushed Shu's door open, heading in alone.

Shuichi looked wan and fragile in the afternoon light. He sat propped up by the upper third of the clever electronic folding bed, looking to his right out the window on the other side of the room. The white of the hospital sheets made every little discolouration of his skin stand out much too starkly. The purple beneath his eyes seemed swollen, his eyes more red than she thought she'd ever seen them before.

He was so pale, she realised, how could no one have noticed this sooner? She watched him turn away from the window, a smile lighting his child-like features. His eyes brightened at the sight of her.

"Mika-chan? Am I dreaming?"

"You wish, you stupid brat!" She snapped mildly, coming up to stand by his bedside, to his left. She glared, "Do you have any idea how worried we all were?!"

The smile slipped of the singer's face and his expression turned pained. "I'm sorry."

She sighed, his regret and obvious guilt making her feel a little wretched for scolding him first-thing. "I know. But you've been pushing yourself way too hard, this was bound to happen."

"I'll do better," Shu promised, brightening a little. "Can you tell Tohma for me?"

"Tohma doesn't know what you're going through," Mika averred, her eyes narrowing, "He isn't dealing with the same things you are, he won't understand… Shuichi?" She trailed off at the sight of his slumping shoulders. He looked so dejected. "What's the matter?"

"Is he angry with me?" the singer asked softly.

"What? No!" Mika reached for him, one hand grasping one of his, the other reaching to push back the stubborn lock of hair in his face. "No, I meant that he… He isn't supposed to expect you to 'do better' Shuichi, because you're already doing more than any of us ever expected. That's all."

Softly, he murmured, "I'm sorry for worrying everyone."

"Damn right you should be!" Mika scolded, fluffing his hair before bringing it down to grasp his hand in both of hers. "We need to know you can and will take care of yourself. We need you."

He didn't say anything, but there it was in his eyes. She could read it as clearly as if he had spoken it. 'No you don't' his eyes said, 'None of you really do.'

It startled her, made her wonder why the young man could think such a thing. If anything, his band needed him especially Hiro. Eiri needed him, too… and so many new people now depended on him, according to Tohma. This need of his to _be needed,_ wasn't it in compensation for the loss of his relationship? Wasn't being needed…

Wasn't being needed what he wanted? She had always been under the impression that the singer mostly did what he was told and allowed people to take care of him was because he always wants to please the people he loves. Mika sighed,

"Kyoto City is the tour's next stop so I've decided to hang around for a while. I'll head back to Tokyo from there." Shuichi said nothing, simply continued to try to _not_ look as sad and forlorn as his eyes expressed. "Talk to me, Shuichi," she told him, "Let me help you."

He was quiet for a long while, fingers of his free hand nervously worrying anything he could get between his fingertips, his one hand in both of hers the only still thing about him. His eyes misted over, he glanced about the room, looked outside. Finally, he met her gaze. She knew he would see the determination she felt. Tohma had planted a seed in her and she wanted to know the rest.

"Mika…" He fiddled with the sheet across his lap as he spoke. His voice was so low she had to strain to hear it, but he noticed and spoke up, "Can I tell you… anything?"

"Under the disclaimer that I reserve the right to rub it in your face when you're better," she kidded. Smiling warmly, she nodded.

"I… I haven't told Hiro or Suguru about a lot of things," he admitted. He fiddled with his sheet some more. "I'm surprised no one at NG has mentioned it to them, actually."

"What is it?" She twisted carefully, leaning closer to sit on the bed by his left hip. "Tell me, I promise to listen."

"I bit off more than I could chew, really," Shuichi told her. "I wanted to be busy… not think about Eiri, you know?"

"I know," she whispered. "And that's normal."

"Is it normal to take on more work than one can handle?" he snorted, "Turn into a workaholic?"

"Do you remember who I'm married to?" she scoffed, a quirk to her brow. He chuckled.

"But Tohma doesn't work to not think about things, NG is part of who he is." Shuichi smiled, "It's like his… baby."

Mika huffed, twisting her lips in wry disbelief. "Baby, huh?"

"Never mind," the singer rolled his eyes. "What I mean to say is, I started working directly for Tohma, you know that much."

She nodded.

"And you know I did some work for you with advertisement compositions. But what you don't know is that I started producing, too. Mattieu Sjolund and I, we signed a contract."

Frowning lightly, she gave him a puzzled expression, "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm officially the co-producer to Leather Bent." Shu stared meaningfully at her.

"Jubilee's debut album?" Mika shook her head, "You were promoted from songwriter?"

The singer shrugged then turned to look out the window to his right.

With only Shuichi's left profile to interpret, Mika asked, "Is that what you keep disappearing off to do on your laptop?"

He glanced back at her, startled.

"I overheard your band mates talking about it, they were trying to figure out how you worked yourself into this state." She waved her hand at the room in general then tilted her head at him. "They said you kept taking time for yourself at your laptop, said you were writing a lot. I think they thought you were writing songs."

Shaking his head, Shuichi stared outside again. He acknowledged, "Yeah, that's what I've been up to. I have a really great assistant, she's great, Hinamori Sachiko-san. I think she suits me perfectly for this work." He smiled then added, "And there's this American dancer, Suzumiya Tasuki. He's really talented. He helped me choreograph Jubilee's first video shoot and almost half of this tour."

Mika paused.

This was the first time Shuichi had ever spoken to anyone about Hinamori and Suzumiya, as far as she knew. He had, last she heard, not even said this much to his band mates. It occurred to her that now Shuichi was opening and all, this was a ripe opportunity to ask about his medication. She had been surprised to hear that he had collapsed only because of exhaustion, after all.

But before she could gather a proper way to voice the query, Shuichi smiled distantly before saying, "You've let me do some marketing for NG and I appreciate that. I enjoyed what you gave me to do…"

"But it wasn't enough." Mika sighed, idly rubbing his hand between her own. "I told you I was only going to give you those two assignments because I was worried about you working too hard. And you went and took more elsewhere anyway." She told him, "You are such a brat."

His smile widened into a grin, "I suppose this isn't the time to tell you that I'm thinking of accepting an internship offer with XMR after the tour?"

"You little…" Yet another slip of truth, she noticed.

"Yeah, I love you too," he murmured, still not meeting her eyes and she began to worry. But he seemed relaxed as he said, "I also love that I'm going to learn English, network the American music industry…" He grinned, looking awfully pleased with himself, in her opinion, despite the tension in his body.

"Shuichi, look at me," she ordered. When he met her gaze she said softly, "Never mind that it's XMR we're talking about here. What about Eiri?"

The warmth in his eyes dimmed suddenly. She watched him shutter his emotions away, his expression turning wary. He asked carefully, "What about him?"

Studying the young man, she sensed more turmoil in him than he was letting on. Not wanting to push the matter, she simply said, "He's trying very hard to be part of your life again. You know that. It will hurt him if you leave."

"I can't think about him right now." Shuichi shook his head, but he looked miserable. "Anyway, he was always more than I could handle." He sighed, closing his eyes, turning his face in a tilt down toward his lap.

Shuichi seemed unsteady to her, somehow more exhausted now than when she had first walked in. Was Eiri becoming too much for him already? Worriedly she asked, hoping the singer would answer in negative, "Do you want me to pull him out of the tour?"

When the singer raised his eyes to hers, Mika clearly saw the confusion and pain in the violet depths. But there was also longing and… hope. He said nothing, just opened his mouth a few times as though trying to answer but thinking better of it. He huffed with frustration, saying nothing before thrusting the fingers of one hand into his hair and attempting to smooth it back.

"You know what?" She said, and he looked at her. "Don't answer that."

He nodded, grimacing a little, "Sorry."

"And quit apologising."

"Yeah," he muttered, "I get that a lot."

--

"Did she say anything after that?"

"No," Shuichi replied into his mobile, other hand massaging the bridge of his nose between his fingertips, eyes squeezed shut. "She seemed to believe everything at that point. She didn't even ask about Nittle Grasper and the band."

The singer was in bed, the same bed he had been taken from that morning when he'd lost consciousness. He listened to Tohma sigh before the man said, "Your head hurts, doesn't it?"

Shuichi smiled a little, appreciating how well Tohma knew him now. "The medication… isn't as effective as it first was."

Shuichi could almost hear Tohma's frown when he said, "I don't like the sound of that. If you want to, Shuichi, you know you could cancel the rest of the tour and go on ahead to America."

"I know, but I don't want to." Shu curled up a little more on his side, squeezing his pillow to his chest. "This tour is important to more than just me."

Tohma sighed again then asked, "Did anything else happen?"

"Oh, yeah," Shuichi brightened a little, chuckling dryly. He stopped quickly when the sound felt rough in his throat. "She had a wire on her!"

"Pardon?"

"Mika-chan had a wire on her," he repeated. The singer grinned to himself at the memory, it was so endearing. "I think that was why she didn't ask about you and your band. She had a wire on and Hiro and Suguru were listening in. She exposed the wire then called my idiot band mates over."

"They planned the whole thing?"

"Yep!" Shuichi laughed, but it seemed a little flat to his own ears so he quickly stopped. "Suguru was blushing, it was adorable. I couldn't feel angry. And Hiro, he was so worried." He paused then said, "They asked me about the meds, I had to come clean… up to a point. I mean, I couldn't tell them everything. I just said I knew what they were and that the stress was affecting my nerves, hence the diminished hyperactivity."

"Do you think they believe you?"

"I think they almost didn't believe me. I had to tell them that I started taking them when… since the break-up." The singer sighed, "I explained the strength by saying that I was just moved up to a higher dosage that week. They sure asked a lot of questions."

"Shuichi?" Tohma sounded worried, "Are you alright?"

"Hiro thinks he knows now what's been bothering me, why I've been this distant with him." Shu's throat tightened, "He scolded me for keeping it a secret from him… Told me that he wouldn't…" he swallowed past the closing in his throat and tried to continue, "He wouldn't have… blamed me…"

Sounding alarmed now, Tohma tried to reassure him, "It's all going to all be alright, Shuichi."

"No, Tohma," he wept, his voice cracking, "It isn't!" Burying his face into his pillow, he pulled the blankets over his head and burrowed. The tears came hard and fast and he was blinded by them. He choked out, "Everything is just slipping away… my life, my family, my band…. Eiri… Gods, my music was so quiet this morning and even now, it's still so hard to hear…"

"Please calm down, you mustn't strain yourself. Try to breathe a little evenly," he coaxed helplessly through the phone. "Please, Shuichi!"

Sobbing, the singer terminated the call and tossed the phone out over the edge of the bed. Gods, he hurt so much! The muted music in his head; frankly, it terrified him. This morning when it was so quiet and he had thought it was gone, it had shaken him badly. There was no way he could handle losing it, no way at all. If his music left him…

_There would be nothing left._

He shook with his own fear.

Though this was not the time to be thinking about such important things, his mind raced, unbidden. There was some comfort to be had in that his mind now composed a sad, echoing melody. Gritting his teeth, he considered how he was putting too big a burden on his band mates. This morning, K had been quite frightened. The last time he had seen such concern in the American's eyes was back in February…

Best not to think about that… he pushed the memory away.

He was failing them, he realised. How he could have even considered being so selfish, he didn't know. It was only supposed to be about protecting them, and now he felt so stupid! They needed him, for the Gods' sake!

After everything he had put them through, after all the effort they had put into taking care of him. They'd been so supportive, letting him have all the space he needed and then some, not smothering him. And all because of… well, not like they knew the whole truth. But that didn't matter too much because they had still been so good to him.

This tour wasn't for him, he told himself firmly. Twelve Kisses was for Suguru and Hiro, for the band and their fans. After all the joy they had given him, the continuous strength to keep up with everything going wrong in his life, he owed them all so much. He owed them so much more than this last tour. He knew he owed them the truth. Hell, he owed them hope, too, but…

There was none left for himself as it was.

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_I've been getting a lot of feedback about my wordiness (among other faults) so I'm trying to cut back a bit. Let me know if I'm getting there. I know I have a tendency to say too much for something so simple, my beta says I do it all the time. __Vindaloo hasn't seen this chapter, either, speaking of my beta. So any mistakes are mine alone!_

_At the moment, I am trying to get things moving along a little quicker. Now that a lot of talk is out of the way, maybe I can finally get Shu and Eiri to lock heads. At the moment, the characters are warring in my head, they apparently would prefer to do battle with me than with each other. They are so cute... sometimes._

_Many thanks to **LLPeepz13** for the continued support, to **Ryu-chan** for the pushes to write, and to **Rikke** for the eloquent feedback. Thank you to **Jersey Thursday**, I'm glad that I did something to cheer you up! **Softy3140**, thanks for the welcome back, I think I needed that. And, yes, K does know about Shuichi's condition. I covered Tohma revealing the secret to him in Court of Royals. I'm glad that you are inspired, **Kairi Skylight**, its always a pampering to my ego to be told I can do that. **Cocoke5**, thank you for your consistent reviews, you always seem to be giving me a pat on the back every step of the way. And welcome to **iyfanatic**; thank you to you, too._

_I love reviews. And the Hit Count on my Stats page. 10,900 hits at last count, I'm amazed...! Okay, shutting up now. _Feed(back) me!

-


	19. Making a Stand

**19 – Making a Stand**

* * *

- 

Eiri leaned against his car where it stood parked beneath the lamplight.

Facing the house across the street, he studied the building as he pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. The darkness was thick now, dusk long past, and the street was deserted. Free to observe in peace, he took a drag, the wind blowing the smoke away and tousling his hair.

It was just a normal little house, he decided, a standard sort of dwelling for any working class, salary-man's family home. He glanced to the each side of the house, noting how there really wasn't much difference between any of them along the street, not even to the rest of the houses he had passed on the way here.

The only thing that made this house, or even Yamanashi itself, special at all was that here was where Shuichi had grown up. That was the gate he had slammed every morning on his way to school and this was the street he had played in.

This was where Shu had become who he was.

There ought to be a plaque, he thought, to commemorate it. Then again, that would only draw attention to the little hidden truth, make it too public until the quiet joy it brought was reduced to something commercial and silly. He sighed, thinking about commerciality. Annoyed at how his thoughts had come full circle again, he frowned to himself. Shuichi's fans probably still know more about the singer than I do, he thought.

Drawn from his thoughts by quietly approaching footsteps, he straightened up and politely bowed to Shindou-san. When she came to stand before him, she looked him up and down carefully. She leaned close, a small smile on her lips as she studied his face in the moonlight.

He caught a breath of the soft rose scent she wore and glimpsed a familiar sparkle in her black eyes. Her soft brown hair was pulled away from her oval, cheerful face into a bun, a few loose strands softening the effect. She wore a blue, simple cotton dress over her slightly plump figure. She had a slight, slender build, making her look like an older, more peaceful version of Shindou Maiko whom Eiri had seen in a few pictures Shuichi kept.

They observed each other in silence for a long minute. After a nod, she told him, "You are more handsome, but also more sad in person." Coming to stand beside him, they leaned on his car together.

A while later, when his cigarette had burned all the way down and he'd crushed it beneath his heel, she said, "I listened to the recording. Thank you for bringing it to me. Seems my son has become… so very important now."

"I apologise for bringing this to your attention," Eiri said politely, "I am certain you would have preferred to hear it from him directly."

"I think it is only important that he's enjoying himself." She sighed then said, "But he isn't anymore, is he?"

The question seemed rhetorical so Eiri lit up another cigarette instead. After a while, he offered, "He was released from hospital early this evening, shortly before I left. My sister is minding him, as are the rest of the band, body guards and who-not. He's safe in bed at this moment."

She nodded. "K-san is supposed to be dropping him here tomorrow to spend the weekend," she told him, a smile in her voice and on her face as she watched him light up. "Before the concert in Kyoto."

Looking over, he watched her.

"Maiko's friends are coming over for a sleepover study session in the evening, however, so I don't think I can invite you to stay as well."

Eiri went back to smoking in silence.

"I appreciate that you want to spend time with him, but I think… he needs some time with his family." She seemed a little sad, "I would have preferred Maiko not bring strangers into the house when he is here, he is home so rarely, but she must study."

"School is important," the writer said solicitously. They stood in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

He was still rather nervous in the presence of Shuichi's mother, after having only spoken to her over the phone. They had only ever spoken one other time in the past, when she had called his home looking for Shuichi, unable to contact the brat on his mobile. That morning, panicked and disoriented with worry, he had called her. But that was before Shuichi regained consciousness and could ask everyone not to tell his family as they would only worry. At that, the writer called again to pass the message along and the kindly woman had promised she would not tell her son they had spoken… under the condition that Eiri come visit her.

When he'd first arrived, after they had bowed to each other, he had silently handed her the tape Mika recorded of the conversation between her and Bad Luck in Shu's hospital room. She had taken it inside her home when he turned away, indicating he would wait outside. Now was the first time they would really speak in person.

Shindou-san broke the silence, "How have things been between you two?"

Eiri considered the inflection of the question but there seemed to be nothing to it than curiosity. "Better. We're… friends."

"I see."

The writer would have sighed, wondering why the woman was so casual about his relationship to her son. She revealed nothing by neither her tone nor words.

"I understand you are close friends now," she mentioned. "Would you agree?"

"I hope so," he replied politely.

She smiled. Suddenly, she asked, "Does my opinion matter to you, where your relationship to Shuichi is concerned?"

He closed his eyes a moment before answering, very softly, "Yes."

"I see."

'You see what?' Eiri wanted to snap at her. He groaned internally.

She glanced over at him a moment before looking ahead again, commenting, "This must be frustrating for you."

Creepy, he thought, and resisted the urge to snap an agreement to that. He sighed, "A little."

"My opinion shouldn't matter so much, I think," she told him, her smile fading. "You should decide what you wish to do. And if it is to rebuild your relationship with Shuichi then you should consider both your reasons and his wishes." She sighed, "Your relationship should be for no one's happiness but yours and his."

Considering her words, he supposed it would be useless to ask her for her thoughts on their relationship now. She was right anyway, he thought selfishly and a little arrogantly, their relationship was no one's business but their own. But maybe, since the singer himself was his main worry…

"Now is there anything you want to ask me?" she offered.

Blowing the last breath off the second cigarette, he tossed it to the ground. Eiri told her frankly, "And what would I think of to ask now? I hardly know him, hardly know _what_ to ask."

Shindou-san glanced at him briefly, concern in her eyes. But then she looked ahead and nodded, accepting his words. When Eiri lit up his third cigarette, he paused a moment before offering the pack to her. Surprising him, she took one and he lit it for her.

"I haven't smoked in years," she told him. Waving the cigarette at him she told him, "You mustn't tell Shuichi I did. He'd only worry. He was so happy when I quit."

Thinking back to the many times the singer had worried over him and this particular habit, he found that believable. But he had always thought Shuichi was too focused, had time and attention for only one thing at a time. The brat had never been good at multi-tasking, so where did Shu find the time to worry about his family living over in the next prefecture? The doubt must have shown on his face because Shindou-san smiled and said,

"He tries, you know?" She took a drag, her fingers twitching a little nervously. "It's a routine with him, he worries about Maiko for a while, then me, then his father. He makes… rounds." She waved her cigarette in a circle for emphasis. "He loves us all very much, so much that no matter what, when he has time he will always come back," she glanced over at the quiet writer, "and make sure we're alright."

Eiri thought about that then said, "He was always the one making things work, making sure that I was taken care of."

"But here you are making an effort for him even though he does not know it." She smiled at him, "Do you realise how much that raises you in my estimation?" Eiri's gaze snapped up to hers. Shindou-san held his gaze and said meaningfully, "It should always be appreciated, what a person does for another when the beneficiary will not find out. It's a show of one's character."

With a small snort he could not suppress, Eiri growled, "I could be manipulating the situation, you realise? After all, it does me good if I am in your good graces."

She admonished him, "Try to not show how jaded you are, Yuki-san."

"Uesugi."

"Pardon me?"

"My surname is Uesugi," he told her, "My real name."

She smiled then, the corners of her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. The expression was very familiar. In that moment, he could see where Shuichi got his heart-stopping smile. She said, "I like that, Uesugi-san," then asked, "If I may ask, what does Shuichi call you now?"

"Eiri."

"That is good." She nodded, "As I recall, he always used to speak of you as Yuki. Did you really prefer that?"

He admitted, "Not really."

She blew out a lungful of smoke before saying, "I am glad for both of you, over the change."

They smoked in companionable silence until the sticks burned down and they ground them out. There now littered a number of butts about their feet but neither paid them any mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, preparing to take his leave But Shindou-san reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Eiri met her gaze and paused, startled by the serious expression on her face and in her eyes.

She tilted her head at him then said, "Let me tell you something: He told me once you never told him you love him… But I think that you should know that he always knew you did."

"I don't think he knows it now." The words hurt to say, knowing that even telling the singer didn't mean he would be believed. "Not really."

She shook her head. "Shuichi has always loved fiercely and he is very loyal. He gives it as freely as there is air but to an extent… he expects some of that devotion in return." Shrugging, she said, "It's normal to feel that way, to want something back. He tries not to expect it but he needs people to love him, you see. For many reasons, he needs to be loved but I think he is like that also partly because of us, his family."

At his quirked brow she smiled, her other hand gesturing for emphasis and continued, "We have always loved him dearly because he was such a baby, so small and with so much energy, always attracting trouble but always so cute." Laughing lightly, she told him, "Even Maiko, in spite of being younger, has learned to take care of him and protect him. Hiro kind of picked up on it and loves him as much as a brother would, cares for him like a brother would."

The writer rolled his eyes.

Seeing this, Shindou-san laughed again. It was a melodic sound, and again Eiri spotted another similarity to his former lover. "Shuichi loves as fiercely, as intensely as we have shown him, I suppose." Her expression turned serious before she asked, "Do you think that a love like that fades easily?"

Eiri took a deep breath before gruffly attempting, "Do you…" Gods, this was hard, "Do you think that he could forgive me?"

Surprise widened Shindou-san's eyes before she told him, "He's halfway there."

Perhaps this was not the time to tell her he had asked for Shuichi's forgiveness, asked to let the singer have the time to consider it… and had been turned down, he thought. He nodded at what she said and looked away, rather disappointed.

As though reading his mind, she said, "It may not seem that way right now. But you of all people should know that regardless of what someone says, there are occasions when they mean something different."

"Isn't that confusing?"

She smiled and conceded, "It would be for someone like you."

Eiri could not help but chuckle wryly at her words.

"I think," she told him almost conspiratorially, "That the important thing is that we all have a bond."

He looked at her. Bond?

"It's what keeps us all close, friend or family no matter how far apart we are," she explained. "In Shuichi's case, no matter how long we have not seen each other, we support him and he supports us. When he can he tries very hard, we know every little gesture is a sign of being remembered and appreciated." She laughed, "Do you know he has the local florist bring me orchids sometimes? They're my favourites. He tries to cheer me up all the way from Tokyo and in spite of his busy schedule. He often makes time to post the florists an accompanying note to send with the flowers."

Eiri smiled faintly at the thought of Miho-san and the man's Tokyo flower shop. Shuichi definitely has a thing for flowers, he thought.

She said softly, "It's the little things that count sometimes, Uesugi-san."

Eiri shook his head but the memories still swept over him. The lilies Shuichi always remembered to tend to and keep fresh, the crème caramel dessert nights. He thought of the days his muse had been working hard and he'd lost track of time, when the kid remembered to bring home take-away for their dinner. The post-its Shu left for him reminding him to drink enough water and eat properly, the grocery shopping Eiri had almost never seen the singer do… had it not been for the mysteriously perpetually stocked pantry…

_Smiling, Shuichi said, "It's the little things that count sometimes."_

"_If that is true," growled Eiri, "then why are you still bothering me, still living with me, if I have done nothing for you?"_

"_Because you do!" the singer argued. "You do lots of little things all the time, you don't even know it!"_

_Hmph. With a scowl, he glared at the kid. Instead of being frightened or discouraged, Shuichi laughed lightly, softly… Such a sweet sound, Eiri thought. He went cold inside thinking about how he was certain to destroy this beautiful creature. It really was only just a matter of time. He stared in awe at this amazing person, wondering how much longer he would have the kid in his life. However long it would be…he would be very grateful for what time he could have..._

"_Like when you look at me like that," Shuichi pointed out._

_Eiri looked away with a frown._

"_When you look away…" Shuichi murmured. Slowly, the singer slid closer, movements languid and sensuous. The writer could not help but watch out of the corner of his eyes, the grace in the singer's body screaming for his attention. "When you watch me like that…"_

_Shuichi crawled into Eiri's lap and the writer gave up all pretences. He curved his hands around the boy's hips and grasped him in place, before pulling the young man closer; he brought Shuichi's body flush against his own. His eyes felt heavy and his breathing turned a little laboured. He could feel the liquid fire of Shuichi's touch skittering over his skin and dancing deliciously down his spine. Straddling him, the singer put both arms around his neck and bent toward his mouth._

"_When you touch me like this…" Leaning in, Shu's smile turned blatantly sexually inviting. "And most especially when you kiss me," he whispered, lips just brushing Eiri's, "like this…"_

Eiri shuddered a little at that particular memory. Sighing, he resigned himself and asked, "How do you tell when you have a bond?"

"I suppose," Shindou-san began thoughtfully, "when you feel loved and have shown that love in return. It's a give and take, always a give and take, because a bond must be tended to continuously over time. It requires effort but you must always retain realistic expectations." She gave him a pointed look. "After all, you can never ask for more than what you are willing to give."

Realising she'd just said almost precisely what his therapist had once told him, the words suddenly held a much larger possibility for truth to them. He was a little embarrassed to admit, "I… I don't know what that is supposed to be like… what it should feel like."

Shindou-san stared at him until he looked up and met her eyes. The hardness in them made him pause. She asked, "Did you immediately regret what you did?"

"Yes," he replied, a little stunned.

There was an edge to her voice when she asked, "Do you want to make him happy?"

"Yes."

"And now, do you miss being part of his life?"

"Yes." His voice was but a whisper now.

The woman smiled sympathetically and soon her smile turned warm again. The kindness returned to her eyes and she said softly, "Then maybe, you just didn't know you already had it."

--

--

Tired and sleepy looking, Yuki-san stared down the barrel of a very familiar gun.

Strangely, Hiro observed, the writer didn't seem particularly threatened. Perhaps he might need more rest than anyone would have thought. Those eye bags under his hazel eyes were a little darker than he remembered. Well, after the past twenty-four hours, everyone was pretty shot, and no one was in much of a mood to deal with the crazy American Bad Luck called 'Manager'.

"What do you want _now_?" the writer growled, his expression turning dangerous. He was _not_ in a sociable mood at all, this one.

"Hiroshi needs a ride to the airport," came the crazy-grin reply. The gunman had his usual morning cigarette clamped into a corner of his lips, his free hand plunked imposingly on his hip as thought without a care in the world… but his blue eyes glittered dangerously.

"And how is that, in any way, _my_ problem?" Yuki sluggishly asked, turning his heavy-lidded gaze up to meet K's eyes.

"It wasn't a piece of information I wished to simply _share, _Yuki-san," said K on a low, warning tone of voice, "I said it because it is a problem and _you_ will fix the problem."

"Over my--" Yuki suddenly stopped speaking. His brows un-furrowed and his eyes took on a different light then he mumbled, "Wait, did you say the words 'Hiroshi' and 'airport' in the same sentence?"

Smirking, K holstered his gun and turned for Shuichi's bedroom. "I'll mind the two other brats," the gunman called over his shoulder, "You get _that one_ out of the way."

Surprisingly, Yuki nodded to Hiro. "Give me a few minutes."

Startled, the guitarist nodded, expecting Yuki-san to go freshen up or something. But the writer turned and followed K. Curious, Hiro went along, too.

"How is he?" Yuki-san asked softly, careful to moderate his voice around the sleeping singer.

"Fine, now. He just needs rest," K replied, also adjusting his vocal volume. Rolling his eyes, the American added, "And there was some mentioned about 'no stress' but I can't remember."

Yuki-san fired K a hard glare before turning back to Shuichi. The singer was curled up on his side with his legs bent, both hands lying curled before his chest. He slept as a child would. The writer sighed.

Hiro smiled to himself, thinking of all the mornings in the Bad Luck House early days when he would wake to find the little moppet in his bed all curled up just like that, and sigh himself. In sleep, the tension gone and his features relaxed in slumber, Shuichi looked five years younger, as though reverting back to the little kid Hiro had known. In their most troubled times, it was witnessing Shuichi in that state that had reminded Hiro his best friend was still there; which reassured him things would be alright.

Inching closer, Hiro wanted to get a better look. He would feel better seeing Shuichi calm and peaceful in sleep… or not.

Coming to stand just behind Yuki-san, the guitarist got a good look at Shu and rather wished he hadn't. He understood now why the writer had sighed now he felt one coming on, too. But it was a weary one.

Shuichi's posture was relaxed, but it seemed more reflexive for sleep than actually soothing. The tension was easily visible, especially on his face. His brows were a little furrowed and his lips pressed lightly together. Fine lines marred the corners of his lips and eyes, his eyes rolled under the lids as he dreamed. Sleep did not look restful for the little singer.

Yuki moved closer to the bed, coming to quietly sit down next to the sleeping body. He reached over and gently smoothed his hand over Shu's pink locks. Standing behind the writer, Hiro wished he could see the man's face. Then again, the tenderness of the movements did communicate Yuki-san's feelings rather clearly.

Dancing his fingertips one last time over Shuichi's jaw, Yuki pulled away. Shuichi muttered something in his sleep and K, who must have been within ear shot, looked sharply up at the writer.

Yuki-san ignored him, stood up, nodded to Hiro and turned right back out the door. Resisting the urge to ask what Shuichi had said, the guitarist scooped up his bag on the way out. In complete silence they rode down the elevator, made a quick detour to the breakfast room where they snagged large paper-cups of strong coffee before heading down to the parking level.

"Thanks for this, Yuki-san," Hiro said honestly, sipping his brew, "I really appreciate it."

"No problem." The writer smirked, "I get to personally dump you off with your girlfriend and keep the brat for a little longer to myself, how could I pass up the opportunity?"

Huh. So that was why. Scowling, Hiro remained silent until they were in the car. There, he turned to look out the window. Despite the early morning daylight washout, he sneaked a look at Yuki-san's reflection in his window. He watched the writer drive, ignoring his own passenger for the most part. Then the man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped out a stick.

Turning back, Hiro said, "Er, if you don't mind?" Yuki-san offered the pack to him. "Ano, that's not what I meant. I was hoping you wouldn't smoke, Ayaka… hates the smell."

"Che!" Yuki snorted, but tucked the pack away into his pocket again.

Grateful, Hiro smiled. "Thanks."

"I'm holding out only for so long, Nakano." The writer growled, "But when I want my smoke, I'm having it whether Ayaka hates the smell or not."

With a sigh, Hiro leaned back, hoping the drive would not be as long as he feared. He wanted to snap back, wanted to say a lot of things, but the writer looked… exhausted. Up closer now, he noticed Yuki-san's eyes were a little bloodshot and the skin under them appeared bruised. Then there was that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes –it was obvious he'd had no sleep at all.

Well this wasn't his problem, he figured, even if the man was kindly bringing him to the airport. 'Kindly' huh? The writer had admitted to ulterior motives and it was K who'd asked, backed up by his guns. As if Hiro would never have asked Yuki-san on his own...

But Yuki-san was also helping, despite Shuichi holding him at arm's length. They were closer, those two, Hiro could see it. But there was still something in the way of them getting yet closer and it puzzled him. Whatever it was that Shuichi feared… whatever it was that was stopping the loving imp from reaching out, he hoped his best friend would figure out soon. He knew the singer loved this man. And it had become obvious to him that the writer really did care about Shuichi, he had seen it for himself. He would not have believed it had he not seen the writer's reaction and expression with his own eyes, being the one to break the news of Shu's collapse.

He had also noticed how in the past twenty-something hours, Yuki-san was smoking a lot more, was shorter tempered than before, and a hell of a lot more fidgety. The man really did care. But instead of the writer's behaviour finally putting his mind to rest, he had to wonder what really was going through the man's mind. If Yuki-san truly loved Shuichi as he suspected, why had the writer gone and cheated on his lover?

"What are your plans?" Hiro asked, suddenly. "With Shuichi, I mean? We knew he planned to leave after the tour, but it must have still been a bit of a shock to hear it from him, recording or not."

Yuki-san was quiet for so long Hiro thought he might never intend to answer. But then he sighed and said, "I don't know. I can only try to be there for him, I don't make decisions for him."

"What do you want now?"

"For now," Yuki-san growled, obviously not comfortable discussing these things, "I just want to learn more about him. Bond with him I guess, as stupid as that sounds. I have a lot to learn."

Annoyed, Hiro demanded, "Are you asking after him all the time because you're researching him? Evening the score? Or do you really want to know about him?"

Flashing the guitarist a dangerous glare, Yuki-san replied, "Not that it's really any of your business, I care a lot about him."

"I don't think you care about him enough, Yuki-san." Hiro said bluntly, folding his arms and turning to stare out the windshield. "I think you just regret losing your lapdog."

"Fuck you."

Unfazed, Hiro said, "Shuichi knows _everything_ about _you_." He shook his head at the memory of his best friend's idiotic passion for the writer. "He was so always so excited he could barely sit still to think about ways to learn more. He… he loved you with the same sort of passion and focus he loves his music." He glared at Yuki-san's profile, "And you… you just…."

"It's rather shocking, thinking back to when I believed he was such an idiot," the writer said softly, expression smoothing, "And finding out that he has loved me all that time in ways that I am only now beginning to understand."

Stunned, Hiro stared. Well, of all the things he had _never_ imagined he would hear from Yuki-san. Shit. Maybe, just maybe… "I am not sure that I trust you yet, you know."

Inclining his head, the writer told him smugly, "It's not your trust I'm after."

Hiro snorted, but a small smile crept across his face. The writer was just such a sarcastic son of a bitch. The car was pulling up the airport ramp-way and as Hiro gathered his bag, an idea occurred popped into his head and he asked, "Do you trust Shuichi?"

"What do you mean?"

"You want him back, don't you?"

Yuki-san paused then answered, "Yes."

"Well, getting him back means he will need to trust you with his heart again." A strange expression came over the novelist's face and Hiro sympathised. The guy really was clueless about relationships sometimes that he had to wonder how the man was such a well-known romance author. "Do you realise what that means?" Hiro asked softly as the car coasted to a stop. "I mean, would you trust him with your heart? Because anything less than a full jump is not going to amount to much anymore."

Shaking his head, looking surprised with himself as though not expecting he might mean every word, Yuki-san told him, "It's not that I don't understand what you're getting at. It's that I'm not sure Shuichi will let me close enough to get him to see he can trust me. That he won't even let me tell him I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_Yay! Eiri is gearing up. Hopefully this will be my last Eiri POV chapter... for a while, anyway. Thanks for all the reviews, people seem to be speaking up a bit more now, which I love. _

_Really, if you have an opinion or a thought about how my work has made you feel, or on how you receive it, I love to hear about it. I have a beta who tells me what's wrong with my writing, I suppose what I am really looking for is how that work and effort I give is received (Thank you, Rikke...)_

_Suggestions are nice, too. I followed up on a suggestion and adjusted the summary... but if anyone else has any ideas on what it could be, do let me know. Oh, and this chapter has not been beta-read._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-_


	20. All the King's Horses

**20 – All the King's Horses**

**Warnings: OOC and SMUT**

**

* * *

**

"Oh good, you're back," K said from the main suite area. A familiar grunt came in reply.

Shuichi opened his eyes but did not move, remaining lying on his left side in bed. His door was open, he could hear what was going on. That would be… Eiri. K had told him the writer went to bring Hiro to the airport. It was rather nice of the bad-tempered writer, who had been and continued to be such a big help all the time.

Despite the aching need to take advantage of the writer's goodness, to call out to Eiri and ask the man to stay there with him and be by his side, Shuichi held back. Things were supposed to be… casual between them. He knew he ought to tie his emotions down, not let them run away with him when Eiri was near. It wouldn't be the disaster he had originally thought it might, what with Eiri insisting he would take only what he could get. But so much was already out of hand as things stood. He sighed and curled up closer on himself, closing his eyes once more.

"Oi," said a voice from behind him.

Shuichi's eyes snapped open and he stiffened.

"Oh good, you're awake."

There was movement, and Shuichi felt the space of the bed behind him dip with the writer's weight. He refused to turn over. All he would do was curl around Eiri anyway and that would be such a show of weakness. Better to stay facing away so as not to be tempted…

"Here," said K's voice from the doorway. There seemed to be an exchange of something, and Shu told his curiosity to Shut Up.

"Thanks," Eiri replied, sounding strangely… sincere. Shuichi still refused to move. Even when he heard the door close, and sensed that he was alone with Eiri. "I'm going to have a quick shower. See you in a bit."

When the bathroom door closed, he slowly peeked over his shoulder, wondering what the two had been talking about. He stared at the creases on the other side of the bed, the evidence of how close the writer had been; they were behind his back to his right… on Eiri's side. When they had slept together in the writer's apartment, his side was to Eiri's left, as it would be if the writer were to get into this… bed… Argh!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Shuichi turned back over and covered his ears with his hands. He didn't want to listen to the spray of the shower, knowing how Eiri stood beneath the water completely… naked.

With a groan, Shuichi snatched his second pillow up from between his knees and pushed it over his right ear, sandwiching his head between pillows. Successfully muting out the sounds of the shower, the singer focused on thinking about _other_ things than the very undressed novelist in his bathroom… and how much he should _not_ want to go… join him.

Growling, Shuichi snatched both pillows into his hands, pressing them against his ears. He rolled over onto his stomach and burrowed beneath his covers, counting silently to ten. After that, he counted to twenty. He reached one hundred and sixty-seven when the bed dipped again.

"Hey."

Shuichi gave up. He rolled over and sat up, glowering.

"What's with that expression? Not like I've done anything to deserve it."

Freshly washed and with a towel about his shoulders, shirtless and his hair damp, Eiri calmly sat by Shu's hip. Oh boy, the singer thought, does _he_ look delicious. With a soft gulp, Shu sat up a bit, pushing his two pillows behind his back and leaning into them. Scooting back was about as much as he could do, the headboard as far as he could go, all things considered.

"You're off to Yamanashi tonight so you need the day's rest but K and Suguru are attending to the set-down," the writer explained, "I haven't had any sleep tonight, so I'll be hanging around here."

Eh? Shuichi's brows crossed.

"Yeah," Eiri smirked, though his eyes were warm. "I got stuck with brat-sitting duty."

Hmph. Shuichi turned his back and curled up again. When he felt the pull of the blanket and a further dip, however, he snapped right back over. "What are you _doing?_"

"Getting into bed," Eiri reasoned, eyes already shut. He crossed his ankles and tucked both hands under his head, pulling his stomach and chest taut… and in full view of Shuichi's wide eyed gaze. Only grey track suit trousers hid the rest of him from view. The singer gulped. "Is there a problem?" Eiri cracked open one eye and smiled a little, "You seem to be enjoying the view, too."

"I—" the singer decided against the lie, seeing as how he could already feel his cheeks burning.

"You…?" Eiri prodded softly, looking a little amused.

Irked and frustrated, Shuichi snapped sharply, "Get dressed, will you?"

The ghost of a smile fell off Eiri's face and he stared thoughtfully at the irate singer. Without another word, he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Shuichi hooked up a knee and rested his left elbow on it… and slumped his forehead into his palm. This was not good. With a sigh, he let it go. Now was not the time to be stressing out. He was fine, really. So what if everything wasn't how he wanted it to be? He was angry, he knew that much, but at the same time he knew what he had to do. He had a goal, something to hold on to, and no matter what… the lot of them would not detract him.

With a sigh, Shu flung himself backward, throwing both arms up and stretching his legs out. That's right. Nothing would stand in his way anymore. This would all be over soon. He just needed to ride with it to the end, whatever happened. Eiri had handed control over to him anyway--

"You look awfully determined," said a smooth baritone voice from the singer's right. He looked over. Eiri wore a grey pullover to match the grey track trousers he had donned after his shower. "I only wish I knew why."

"Don't worry your pretty head," Shu murmured dismissively.

Eiri looked surprised, he padded closer to the bed and twisted his right leg under himself as he sat down, still keeping eye contact. After a moment, tilting forward, the writer lay on his stomach, propped up by his elbows. Lying next to the quiet singer, Eiri appeared worried and tense.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Shu asked.

Eiri replied softly, "Not unless I can be sure you'll be alright."

"Sleep," Shuichi sighed. His voice lowered to whisper. "I'm tired too; we both need to get some rest. And it'll be nice to wake up here together."

"Why do say such things?" Eiri asked just as softly, letting himself fall forward on his stomach, face burying into his pillow. His voice was a little muffled when he observed, "You're always spouting off things you know other people want to hear… but is no where near what you really think or feel."

Shuichi lilted his face up to look at the ceiling, feeling solemn but not sad. He said, "Better this way, don't you think?"

"Not for those who can see the truth," the writer sighed, turning his head over to look at Shuichi. "While not a lot of people are looking enough to see it, there are those who do. When they see, when _I_ see, it is not better at all."

"Don't look, then," Shuichi muttered, throwing an arm up over his eyes. The bed shifted and he felt Eiri press against his side, he sensed the man's presence leaning over him. From but a few centimetres above his face, he felt as well as heard Eiri speak.

"I could never not _see_ you, Shu," he whispered, "Not anymore. Let me closer, won't you?"

"You're already closer than I ever wanted," the singer whispered. _He sees me?_ Shuichi wondered. The nearness was driving him a little mad, he could smell the writer's scent. Yearning flooded his senses and he felt the familiar sting behind his eyes. Not wanting to let Eiri see him cry, Shu kept his eyes covered. But he leaned upward and parted his lips when he sensed Eiri shift, leaned up to accept the kiss… and his mind emptied at the touch.

Preferring the crash of sensations over the turmoil in his heart and mind, he focused all his senses on the feel of the writer's mouth on his own. Sliding his right arm away from his eyes, he turned his hand over and covered Eiri's eyes instead, pushing up with his other elbow to press closer.

Eiri shifted, half covering the singer's body with his own, his right elbow reaching over to press into the mattress of Shu's left. Still pushing up with his left elbow, Shu reached with his hand to curl it around Eiri's shoulder. Accepting Shu's right hand over his eyes, Eiri slid his left hand under the singer's mid back. Pressing closer, he slipped his right leg between Shu's and pressed his thigh against the singer's groin. Liquid fire raced up the singer's body at this and Shuichi gasped into Eiri's mouth, breaking the kiss.

Arching with a gasp, Shuichi pressed into Eiri's thigh again. Heat permeated all his senses, he felt dizzy yet certain at the same time. He ignored the feel of his tears sliding down his cheeks, ignored how they slipped under each ear and into his hair. But he remained mindful of these tears, despite wanting to keep his hand over Eiri's eyes he instead reached over, reached past and around the writer's shoulder. Pushing his face into Eiri's neck he closed his right arm around the writer in a tight grip.

Body trembling from the onslaught of sensations, he whispered hoarsely, "Eiri…"

The whisper arced into a soft moan at the feel of the writer's mouth on his throat. Gently, Eiri's teeth and tongue nipped along his throat to his jaw, lips sliding slowly up the nip at Shuichi's ear. The writer's arms tightened about Shuichi, who gasped and arched again, moaning when the motion pushed his groin into Eiri's thigh once more. Feeling this, Eiri pressed into him again. Helplessly, Shu moaned and pushed back.

Shifting, the writer's right arm closed on Shu's shoulder and pushed him back down onto the mattress completely. Squeezing his eyes shut, the singer lay back, turning his face away so Eiri would not need to face his tears. He knew the writer could tell he was crying, but thankfully, Eiri didn't ask after them, didn't push him. For that, Shu was grateful.

Slowly, hands gently tracing patterns across his skin, Eiri kissed his way down to Shuichi's chest. There, he pressed a multitude of fleeting kisses, each but a whisper of breath before closing his lips on one nipple and worrying it with his tongue.

"Oh!" Shuichi arched into the touch, left hand rising to tangle in Eiri's hair, the other gripping one of the writer's smooth shoulders.

Each lave of Eiri's tongue, each whisper of touch and every breath blown over his skin built languid heavy heat under his flesh. The collection of sensations seemed to slide down and pool in Shuichi's abdomen. Bit by bit the pressure increased until the heaviness turned into an ache, his erection straining against the softness of his pyjamas. One of the writer's hands danced its way down to his hip, the thumb reaching across to nudge at his hardness. Shuichi gasped again, tossing his head.

Eiri kissed his way to the other nipple and lavished the same treatment upon it as he had its twin. Releasing his hold on Eiri's hair, Shu slid his hand down the writer's chest, his own fingertips seeking out the writer's nipple to mimic the action of Eiri's tongue.

When Eiri licked his way up to Shuichi's mouth and drew him into a kiss, Shu took the opportunity. He slid his fingertips teasingly down over every bump and into every dip of Eiri's chest and stomach, reached down to close his hands around the writer's hardness. Shu was rewarded by a soft moan, Eiri breathing the sound into the singer's mouth, making him even more aroused than before. Eiri stiffened and pulled away suddenly,

"Shuichi," the writer murmured, his voice deeper in a way Shu only ever heard in bed. "I have to stop. I can't…"

Shuichi smiled up at Eiri, though he could feel his heart cracking just a little more. Seeing the worry in his lover's golden eyes, he shook the smile away. He knew it was too pitiful, and instead begged with his watery eyes.

"Eiri," Shu whispered, "Make love to me?" The writer's eyes widened. "I don't want sex, I don't want pity… make love to me."

A kind of reverence shone in the writer's golden eyes. And in answer, Eiri dipped his head and caught Shuichi up into another soul-shattering kiss.

Shuichi instantly regretted making Eiri cover himself up, the pullover was now only a hindrance. He pulled it up with one hand, guiding the fabric as Eiri rocked over from one side to the other letting the singer remove the garment one arm at a time. He lifted his own arms when Eiri sat up and pulled his pyjama top off of him, settling back only to lift his hips when the writer scooted backward off the bed to remove his bottoms. Half kneeling on the foot of the bed, Eiri looked down at him and Shuichi shivered under the heated golden gaze.

Not at all embarrassed, he opened his legs, parted his arms and with his whole body called for Eiri to come back to him. _Come back to me…_ he thought, _Take me back into your arms._

He cried a little harder but he maintained his pose, looking up into Eiri's eyes… filled with love, wonder and awe. There was a touch of possessiveness that warmed Shuichi, as though, in some ways, Eiri never meant to let him go. He wondered if he should be frightened of it, but instead he welcomed it.

"You're amazing, Shuichi," Eiri whispered, a hunger in his eyes as he looked the singer over. "And so beautiful…"

Shuichi blushed, his hands clenching into the sheets. With a chuckle, Eiri moved toward the windows and closed the heavy layers of curtains, throwing the room into semi-darkness. Coming back to the foot of the bed, the writer bent to his hands and knees, crawling up the bed on all fours. He leaned over, covering Shuichi's body with his own, settling into the arms the singer raised up to welcome him.

"Shu," Eiri whispered, and he bent his head.

Shuichi surrendered. This was what he had wanted for so long… _Eiri has come back to me_, he thought. When the writer pulled away a moment, Shuichi framed that handsome face with both his hands. He met Eiri's intense gaze, lungs full with Eiri's scent, body aching for more of the man's touch and his heart clenched. _Don't leave me again,_ he begged in his mind, _never leave me._

"I won't, Shu," Eiri said softly, head bending to press a tender kiss to Shuichi's forehead. "I promise I won't leave you."

What little defences Shuichi had left broke at the realisation he had begged aloud… and that Eiri had made such a promise.

He gasped when the writer began to explore with his hands, welcomed Eiri's touch down his chest, over his belly and between his legs. Arching into the touch, his own hands roamed over the writer's smooth shoulders, down the strong back. Opening his mouth, he sucked on Eiri's fingers, parted his legs and welcomed his lover's weight between them.

_Lover._

Shifting, he parted his legs further when Eiri moved to withdraw the hand from his mouth. He took advantage of Eiri's distraction to lick at an ear that came within reach, gasping when the writer's slicked fingers swirled over his opening.

_Join with me_, Shu thought. _Come into me, inside me, and make me yours…_

"Please!" Shuichi cried out softly when one digit pressed deeply into him, immediately smoothing over the most sensitive spot inside him, making his hips buck.

Carefully, and Shuichi could feel it, Eiri thrust his finger back and forth. Shu slanted his head, receiving the mad kiss Eiri pressed onto his mouth as the single finger slid out and two pressed in. Fingers scissoring, Eiri kissed his way down to the singer's chest, he spared each nipple the scantest attention before continuing down to the small quivering belly and dipping his tongue into a very sensitive navel. Shuichi arched into the attention, hands grabbing at the sheets and resisting the urge to grab at Eiri's hair and risk hurting him.

"Hold on, Shu…"

Finally, realisation penetrated Shuichi's desire-heavy mind and his eyes snapped open. Looking down, he met Eiri's eyes as the writer gripped his hardness in one hand… and closed his lips over the head.

"Eiri!" Shu screamed the name, pleasure crashing through him. The wet heat drove him nearly mad, eyes rolling into his head. Eiri had so rarely ever pleasured him like this that his body responded strongly and without hesitation. "Why..?"

Taking advantage of the singer's silence as he adjusted to having three fingers inside him, Eiri said softly, "I want to give this to you." Shuichi arched and cried out when the writer's fingers brushed over his prostate again. "I want you to think of nothing but me and this."

"Always," Shuichi managed to gasp out, "I've always thought of you; never stopped." Shuichi released the sheets to cover his face with his hands, crying, "Wanted you… to come back."

_Waited for you to take me back, to come back to me and only me…_

"I thought you left me," Eiri admitted, leaning up and gently pressing Shuichi into the mattress with his weight. He braced his upper body up with one elbow, his hand pulling away Shuichi's hands so he could see the singer's face. He brushed back the sweat-drenched bangs on Shu's face, the other hand still thrusting deeply into the singer.

"Went away," Shu cried, his shoulders shaking. He looked up into Eiri's face, reaching to frame the writer's face with his hands again and they stared deeply, awestruck, into each other's eyes. "Because I thought you didn't want me anymore."

Shaking his head, Eiri shifted. When he resettled, Shuichi could feel Eiri's hardness poised at his entrance. He wrapped his arms around the novelist's neck and lifted his legs to hook them together at the writer's lower back. As Eiri pressed forward, Shuichi gasped but maintained eye contact.

"No, Shu," the writer whispered, bringing both arms up to brace his weight on his elbows. Straight into the singer's eyes, he admitted, "I thought _you_ didn't want _me_ anymore. I'm a fool, I did the stupidest thing and you left me. I couldn't blame you."

Feeling Eiri sinking into him nearly made Shuichi come apart. Overcome with emotion he cried, so softly he wasn't sure he was heard, "I love you, Eiri…"

He cried out when Eiri was completely inside him, feeling the heavy weight of the writer on top of him. _Don't leave me again…_

"Never, Shuichi," Eiri pressed soft kisses along the singer's forehead and hairline, a gently hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the tears away. "I promised, didn't I? I'll never leave you… I… I love--"

Closing his arms around Eiri, heart swelling so much Shuichi thought it would burst, he tried to pull the writer closer. It didn't matter he had interrupted. He arched, and Eiri began to move… then he ceased to think at all.

Slowly, Eiri rocked against him, gently moving against his prostate within and Shuichi gasped at each thrust. His mind was coming undone, head tossing, his hands scrabbled to grip the writer tighter. Hot and demanding, the powerful sensations ripped through him. Restlessly, he squirmed and Eiri's forehead dropped into his neck with a gasp.

"Don't," Eiri warned.

But Shuichi wasn't listening. All he could hear was how the writer had almost told him… _I love you._ It was making him insane. He twisted again and Eiri growled. Pulling back, Eiri suddenly rammed harshly in.

Shuichi heard a keening wail, registered distantly how it sounded awfully like his voice. But he couldn't concern himself, not when Eiri began a deep and strong rhythm. He wrapped both arms and both legs tightly around his lover, moving his body in response. He had only just enough presence of mind to realise Eiri was holding him just as tightly, one hand wrapped around his hip to help hold him down.

Thrusting back, Shuichi wept, overcome with both sensation and emotion. The pressure in his abdomen was building to unimaginable proportions, the tension like a spring wound too tight. The stress of it seemed to create a multitude of fireworks in his loins, the pressure increasing until he could almost no longer bear it… but one of Eiri's thrusts sent a bolt of white hot lightning through him and the tension broke. Shouting his lover's name, Shuichi arched as he climaxed feeling, as he rode the sensations, when Eiri joined him in completion.

Collapsing, Shu kept his arms wrapped around his lover, letting Eiri rest on top of him. When the writer pulled away, pulled out, he let himself be rolled to his side when his lover also refused to let him go. He sighed, pressing his face into Eiri's chest.

Listening to his lover's heart rate slow down, Shuichi felt… a quiet sort of contentment. But then his earlier love-driven words returned to him and he almost grimaced. He shouldn't have said those things, he realised. It would only make Eiri break his promise, and he had no right to make Eiri do such a thing when he'd said… he'd said…

Shuichi's eyes popped open.

"You're thinking again," Eiri scolded sleepily. "You're all tense suddenly."

"You said…" Shuichi wasn't even certain if he should voice it or laugh it off. His ears were probably broken. "I thought you almost said—"

"That I love you." Eiri whispered the words into his hair, arms tightening.

Bewildered, Shuichi only pressed closer. The entire situation had a certain dreamlike quality to it.

"I also said I will never leave you."

Fear raced down Shuichi's spine. But in the next instant, he took hold of those precious words and almost wept with happiness. His earlier worries seeming like but a memory, he realised how sleep pulled at him with strong arms. He wanted to give in and from the sound of Eiri's slurred speech, he too was in for a deep sleep.

Past the sleepiness, heartache and tears Shu managed to ask, "Never?"

"Never."

And this time, Shuichi surrendered to the darkness willingly.

-

-

-

Three days later, Shuichi walked into Bad Luck's Kyoto hotel suite. Uesugi Tatsuha dropped his smile and suddenly frowned darkly before commenting, "You look like hell."

Hiro, Suguru and K all looked rather annoyed with him by this comment, but Tatsuha ignored them. Shuichi rolled his eyes as he approached the group and sarcastically fired back, "Gee, thanks, Tatsuha. I sure needed to hear it like that, I feel so much better."

The monk smirked, looking even more startlingly like his older brother. He mock saluted when he said, "Glad to be of service. How was the visit with your folks?"

"Just fine, thanks for asking." Over-riding the young monk, who had just opened his mouth, Shuichi stabbed a finger into the air and continued, "I had nothing but my mother's home cooking, my sisters' baking, my sister's classmates' squealing, and NO, I did not engage in any hot sex." Tatsuha grinned and opened his mouth one more time but Shuichi still beat him to it with, "And NO, I did not get propositioned for hot sex, either!"

The singer gave each of his band mates a hug. Hiro murmured, "Welcome back, Shu."

Watching him, thoroughly amused, the young monk sing-songed, "Shuichi—"

"No, thank you, Tatsuha."

The young monk grinned even wider, "But you don't even know what I was about to say!"

"On the contrary," Shuichi muttered, "I happen to know YOU were about to proposition me for hot sex. And the answer is still 'no'."

Hiro and Suguru were snickering madly by this point, and K was looking quite relaxed despite the ominous-looking rifle in his right hand which he had hoisted over his right shoulder.

Shuichi smiled at them all then asked, "Where's Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde?"

"Eh?" Tatsuha quirked a brow, curiosity apparent.

"With the set-up crew," Suguru replied, moving away toward his own room. "We're meeting them for lunch then all heading back to the hall. I'm going to get changed now that you're here--" He stopped, eyes fixing on Shuichi's hand and suddenly demanded, "Where are mine?"

"Thanks!" Hiro said happily, receiving a prettily-tied package from the little singer. The guitarist knew the parcel contained some of Maiko's speciality of miniature chocolate chip cookies.

Shuichi dutifully handed a second package over to the anticipative synth-master. K and Tatsuha both smiled before holding out their hands as well. Shu, however, instead stuck his tongue out at them and stated emphatically, "No."

"You still haven't told me who Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are," moaned Tatsuha, curling up on one of the suite couches, frowning at the gleeful Suguru who disappeared to change.

Shoving his bag under the coffee table with his foot, Shuichi tossed his cotton hood jacket onto another of the couches before sending himself over it in a sprawl. He said, slurring his words a little, "Katsuya and Eiri."

"Ohh…" the monk smiled at this. He uselessly offered, "I know who Mr Hyde is!"

Hiro, seated on the arm rest near Shuichi, reached over and ruffled the singer's hair before saying, "Didn't get much sleep?"

"Tamaki, Miaka and Haruhi." Shuichi muttered, eyes closed.

Hiro asked, "Who are they?"

"Three of Maiko's friends and banes of my existence, I'll have you know. They weren't so bad before. They'd visited us in Tokyo, the night we were finalising the CD insert layouts--"

"Ah, yes," K said snidely, "The night you bailed out and went clubbing."

Shuichi cracked open one eye and glared, "You guys didn't need me there, remember? I'm the idiot with the weird tastes in colours and layouts."

Hiro shrugged and K turned away, shaking his head. For a few moments, the guitarist watched the gunman leave to make preparations for their departure then prodded, "So, you were saying?"

"The three terrors," the tired singer clarified. "Maiko was too lovey-dovey to save me most of the time, it was a real hassle." Shuichi sighed, relaxing. "And she was the one who had brought them over in the first place! The least she could've done was take care of her own friends!"

"Lovey—" Hiro's brows crossed, "Maiko's got a boyfriend?!"

Shuichi mumbled absently, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that…"

"She's practically my little sister, too, you know!" Hiro scolded, "You're not supposed to oops, not tell me!"

"Sorry Hiro..." Shuichi sing-songed dutifully, while Tatsuha giggled a little at the expression on the guitarist's face.

Suguru came marching out of his room and immediately frowned at Shuichi. "Aren't you going to change or something?"

"It's just lunch, Suguru." Shuichi rolled over on to his side without opening his eyes and continued his little power nap.

"We'll be out in public!" the synth-master hissed, as though it were a moral offence to _not_ be presentably photographable in public.

Popping both eyes open, Shuichi said testily, "I am _not_ going to change just for lunch."

Sensing the sudden tension, both Tatsuha and Hiro sobered pretty quickly. Hiro decided defusing was in order and reached over to ruffle Shuichi's hair, saying, "As long as you don't mind getting your photograph taken this way, Shu, just remember not to whine to us later asking why we didn't argue harder for you to change…"

It had happened before. Shuichi being belligerent had gone out in some of his most comfortable clothes; shorts and a t-shirt, and complained non stop to his band mates the following day when the shots were published. He had made them promise to never let him out into the world if he was not properly presentable ever again. He hadn't wanted another caption of, "The _real_ face Yuki Eiri wakes up to!"

With a sigh, the singer rolled to his feet, snagged his bag out from under the coffee table and shuffled away to his room. Suguru gave Hiro a 'how _do_ you do that' glare and plopped himself down for the wait. Tatsuha smiled at the little synth-master, siddling up close to sit beside him. Aside from tossing the monk an icy glare, Suguru said and did nothing.

"He looks ready to crash," Tatsuha commented softly. Hiro and Suguru looked over to find a rare sombre expression on the Uesugi sibling's face. "Looks worse than when I saw him last, and this is what you all call him 'doing better'?"

"We don't know what else there could be, he's explained himself over every concern we had," Suguru admitted. "There is nothing left of his to hide."

Tatsuha leaned back, a strangely thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, back when he wanted to give up on Aniki, he still couldn't let go. He was pretending… and I could tell."

Hiro looked up at the monk. He whispered, "What are you saying?"

"He's still hiding something."

Suguru and Hiro exchanged looks.

"Yeah, I know," Tatsuha murmured, "He's filled in all the blanks. All of them." Enunciating carefully, meaningfully, he said, "Every single one."

Suguru and Hiro began to look rather worried.

"This is a fine group of friends we make," the monk observed, pushing up and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He chuckled wryly, "We had an investigator and Shuichi has an insider. Everybody is second-guessing everyone else."

"Do you…" Suguru hesitated. "Do you really think whatever it is that he's hiding is really that important?"

"I don't," Hiro murmured, looking torn and very disappointed. "What ever is wrong is more _in_ him than something _about_ him."

"I agree." Tatsuha looked away, at Shuichi's closed door. "But I somehow feel that he… needs Aniki now. Back then, it was Aniki who needed him more. Now the roles are reversed."

"You really think your bastard of a—"

"Careful, Hiro," Tatsuha warned, eyes turning to pin the annoyed guitarist. Hiro huffed out a breath and wisely did not finish his sentence.

Suguru shook his head. "Why does that damn singer need so much drama in his life?" He complained, "Why can't we just be a band and make music? Just be people and have relationships? It's so frustrating!"

"I can't wait to see them together over lunch," Tatsuha said, chuckling darkly to himself.

Hiro calmly walked over and bopped him over the head. The guitarist ignored the indignant glare accompanying the two-handed reached for the abused section of skull and said, "Don't talk like you're plotting their lives! _You_ remind me of Seguchi-san!"

"Don't insult my cousin," Suguru said absently, wary gaze on K who had just returned. He stood and went to rap on Shuichi's door. "Shu! K's back and we're ready to go."

"Just a minute, Grumpy!"

Suguru growled.

From beyond the door, Hiro was startled to hear an old English rhyme… sung with a twist, "Harrumphty Grumpy sat on the wall, Harrumphty Grumpy had a great fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men," The door swung open, "rushed to make Grumpy on time again."

"Nice outfit," Suguru muttered sincerely, rolling his eyes at the song, perfectly accustomed to the singer poking fun at him.

Hiro noticed how Shuichi had dressed in slim-fitting jeans, the same dark shade as his and Suguru's own. He wore a stitch-detailed black button up shirt, looking nicely complementary to his two other band mates. He had a leather choker on his throat, and his cross earring dangled from his ear. He had even brushed and styled his hair.

"You look like you're going on a date," Hiro blurted, without thinking. When Shuichi blushed a deep shade of pink, the guitarist blinked.

Carefully, no one said anything and collectively moved toward the door. Hiro exchanged a surprised look with his synth-master as they followed K and their singer out the door.

Tatsuha smirked smugly.

-

-

-

"It's beautiful." Shuichi murmured a little dreamily. He felt a lot like he used to… before.

He and his lover strolled over to the middle of the low bridge that crossed a small stream. There were only a few plum trees in bloom, the last of this Baikasai season, yet still ethereally beautiful. He looked up at Eiri, who was studying him with a gentle expression on his face that took the singer's breath away.

"I only wish I had taken you here a little sooner," the writer admitted. He turned to lean back against the bridge railing upon which they stood, while Shuichi leaned forward and bent to put his chin on his folded arms. "Next time, I'll take you to the Kitano Tenmangu Shrine toward the end of February; that's supposedly the best time and place."

Shuichi smiled to himself, enjoying the way Eiri spoke of the future. The writer hadn't been like that… before. Well, the future hardly mattered now but he wouldn't point that out. Things were fine the way they were right now. The changes in the writer really ought to be frightening him, but instead it was more like… all his wishes and little dreams were catching up.

It was as though his little wishes were rushing to come true before time ran out.

Wondering at his calmness, he considered that he ought to be feeling scared or worried about… his end. But there wasn't much there to feel, really. He hadn't _been_ feeling very much lately, actually, just small surges of emotion every now and then. And not much of it negative. This was good, he decided instead. Better to accept it.

He turned his head, letting his temple rest on his arms as he looked up at Eiri's profile. So handsome, he thought, a ghost of a smile creeping its way across his lips. "I like this, Eiri. I like being with you."

Without turning to meet Shuichi's eyes, the writer paused before saying, "I'm enjoying it, too. You're quiet, though. But it really seems like you just want to be here with me."

Shu could have chuckled to himself but he didn't want to ruin the mood. It was funny to think that Eiri hadn't believed him when he'd said he wanted to just spend time with his lover. Although, shouldn't that hurt? He had always meant it, and now that he was calmer about it, it was only know he'd be believed? He sighed instead.

"Shuichi?" the singer suppressed the small shudder that danced up his spine at the sound of his name. Eiri looked over at him, "I know you don't want to talk about us so just hear me out." He looked… almost sorrowful when he spoke, "I can't expect you to come back to me, but I hope you know that I… want you to. Whatever it is that is holding you back from coming back to me, its okay. Just let me enjoy what I can have."

Shuichi felt still inside, like there was nothing but emptiness. He missed Eiri in more ways than he would say… ah, but that was just a dangerous path of thinking. He shook himself internally, his own head shaking a little at his own silliness, lifting his head to prop his chin on his arms. Gods, he really was such an idiot.

He asked softly, "Is it hard? I mean, is it too hard? We could stop before it hurts too much, you know. After the other night…"

"Especially after the other night," Eiri affirmed.

Turning around, Shuichi leaned back on the railing as well, hooking his elbows over the rail to lean back on them. He discreetly moved just those small inches closer to the writer's side; his right hand side. "I just don't want you to have any regrets when this is over."

There was a flash of raw emotion in the writer's eyes when Eiri looked at him, but the writer turned quickly away. His voice seemed deeper, scratchier, when he said, "All the regrets I have are… a lot older. And those are all the regrets I will have. I won't rethink anything that happens between us now."

Feeling a heavy weight settle in his chest, Shuichi's voice sounded close to cracking when he lightly teased, "Promise?"

Pressing a brief, soft kiss to the crown of Shu's head, the writer reiterated softly,"I promise."

Tilting his head up so he could look at the sky, Shuichi let the silent tears slide down to the corners of his eyes and into his hair. He focused on his breathing, sighing every now and then to release the pressure in his chest when it built up too much. Eiri moved to just within his peripheral vision and the writer's right arm slipped around his shoulders, pulling him close. Still looking up, he leaned his head against Eiri's shoulder, realizing a long while later that the tears from one eye were soaking the man's shirt.

But he didn't try to pull away. He breathed deep, inhaling that dizzying scent that was just all Eiri… and wondered if he died, would the memories and regrets still hurt? Would he even remember enough to miss this man?

* * *

_Author notes:_

_I'm so glad things are moving along. Argh, it took me 19 chapters to write all my thoughts out and get things down… and now I feel I could have done away with so much of them! But then again, I had side stories in mind when I wrote them… and maybe I will still write them, you never know._

_I have had a few people ask the same question: Will Shuichi die?_

_I didn't answer that because that is part of the story, its part of the reason you are reading it. But I think some people will be upset to not have an answer so, no, Shuichi is not going to die. His relationship with Eiri is everything in this story and I hate death endings when the characters have worked so hard to be together. I suppose I shouldn't be admitting this, but there you go._

_This story is really not all that complicated. If you read or review it from beginning to this point, you will just see how Shuichi has slowly worn away, how he has given up. This probably gives you all the "he's going to die" vibe because that is how he has been acting, but that's not it. That is not to say he will be perfectly alright…_

_Ok, I have to stop with the inside peeks. Read!_

_And don't forget to feed(back) me!_

_--_


	21. And All the King's Men,

**21 – And All the King's men**

* * *

-- 

Shuichi's face hurt from smiling.

Standing amidst the noisy crowd, he wanted nothing more than to be… alone. It was annoying, being 'alone' in a group of people. He wanted peace and quiet, and had to chuckle at this thought. _Him_, Shindou Shuichi, in need of peace and quiet, imagine that?

Glancing quickly about to make sure no one was looking, he made a quick getaway. Making his way to the back of the Uesugi temple property, he made for the bridge he knew was there. The sound of the water was peaceful and he sought that calm atmosphere now, away from the garden party in full swing on the Temple side lawn.

Tatsuha had invited a mass of his friends from the culture school he attended. As part of his monk's training, his father had sent him to a cultural arts school where he learned Japanese history, calligraphy, and (Tatsuha's favourite) Painting. The singer had been expecting a quiet bunch, reminiscent of the type Uesugi-Senior would likely approve as company for his heir. Instead, they were a rowdy bunch and, unfortunately, all fans of Bad Luck.

They had known the young monk was the novelist Yuki Eiri's sibling, but had been floored when the band arrived, greeting Tatsuha like the old friend he was. His ears were still ringing from the shrill yells…

Stepping onto the bridge, Shuichi bent and folded his arms on the railing, laying his chin down on his arms. He stared down into the water at his reflection before looking beyond to admire the pretty carp.

"Must be nice to go with the flow down there," he murmured to himself. "Less delicate choices; such a simpler way to live."

"But sometimes complicated is a good thing."

Shuichi didn't move, continuing to look down, not acknowledging Eiri's presence.

"If not for 'complicated', for example, you and I wouldn't have what we do without all the strings and such," the writer observed, his footfalls sounding on the wood as he approached. Closer now, Eiri seemed to sense Shu's need for quiet, and said no more.

Shuichi listened to the wind blow, relished the feel of it caressing his skin and hair. Despite his surroundings and his calm demeanour, despite having Eiri standing by his side, he felt horribly empty. Listlessly, he sighed.

The writer shifted, stepping around behind Shuichi and coming to stand very close. His hands gently slid down the singer's upper arms, hooking Shu's elbows and gently guiding him to stand upright, before pulling the singer back against himself. Shu kept his hands on the railing, leaning back against Eiri, and let his head rest on the writer's chest. He welcomed the warm arms that came around to hold him in an embrace which made him aware of how cold he really was inside.

He smiled a little when he felt the writer press a small kiss to the top of his head and murmured, "Thanks."

"I may not be… Hiro," whispered Eiri into Shu's hair. "But if you want to talk, I will listen."

"Let me keep my thoughts my own for now," the singer said. The guitarist's name caused a particular acute tightness in his chest. "But thanks for the offer."

After a long while, Eiri asked on a whisper, "Is this enough?"

"Yes." Shuichi reached up with one hand, closing it around Eiri's which were crossed across his chest. "For now."

-

Hiro watched the two embrace, appreciating the quiet between them. He turned and left the two alone seeing, even if Shuichi didn't realise it, how the singer calmed in Eiri's presence; in the writer's arms.

Best not to disturb them.

He went to sit by a small fish pond by the side of the house. Out of the way but within view of the party, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. A while later, Tatsuha sidled up to sit next to him.

"How are they?" asked the monk quietly.

Hiro replied, "Together. Quiet."

"They have a lot to sort out."

"I know." Hiro offered the pack to the young monk, who took one. "Whatever the result is, I just want Shuichi to be happy."

"I think they need each other, those two," Tatsuha said, half to himself. "Together, happiness is happier; sadness sadder. They are good together regardless of the stupid mistakes they make, regardless of the drama."

"Shuichi has never been without drama in his life, anyway," Hiro agreed, earning a raised-brows look from the young monk. "Shut up, I know what you're thinking. Yeah, they belong together. And I'm glad that writer has sorted himself out because that's the _only_ reason—"

"Oh, give over," Tatsuha scolded. "You left them to their relationship years ago. And after what Aniki told you in the car…"

"Shut up," Hiro repeated, frowning, blowing out a harsh plume of smoke. "And I'm not done with them yet."

Tatsuha sobered. He looked questioningly at the irritated guitarist.

--

* * *

-- 

"Not done with you at all." Hiro frowned, "Not when you're looking even more haggard and stressed than ever." He plunked his hands down on his hips and glared. "I see you, everyone sees you – you are hiding something even now in spite of that conversation you had with us at the hospital."

Shuichi sighed, flopping over backward on the couch of the hotel suite living room.

"Oi." The guitarist narrowed his eyes at his best friend, glad he could be so honest, alone with his childhood friend. "They may not see it, they have become used to seeing you this way… but I can tell."

"Leave it alone, Hiro."

"No," the guitarist insisted. "Everyone's on your case, I know that and I sympathise. But that's because we love you Shuichi, _I_ love you. How can you think that I really would leave this alone?"

Shuichi rolled over and curled up.

"Can't you tell me anything?" he prodded gently, coming to stand beside the couch where the quiet singer lay. "Anything at all? I just want to help."

"I love you, too, Hiro, you know that." Shuichi muttered. "But I can only tell you what I can, not everything."

"Why?"

"Because it will break things…" Shuichi sounded hoarse, as though he were crying. Gods, did they all do nothing but make the boy cry?! "It could break me, I am just not ready to talk about some things."

"I'm just glad you're willing to talk," he said, honestly. He sank down into a chair and put his head in his hands. "I thought you wouldn't ever talk to me."

"That's not—"

"I know, Shu." With a small wry chuckle, Hiro observed, "This will be a rather long story, won't it?"

Chuckling wetly, Shuichi replied, "Yes, it will."

"Some tea would be good."

Shuichi tossed his feet over the edge of the couch and got to his feet. Like a responsible host, he shuffled off to pick up the phone and order room service.

Quickly, Hiro dived his hand into his pocket, pushing a sequence of call buttons he didn't need to see to know he was dialling the right person. He muttered to himself, "You had better pick up, you bastard…"

Shuichi turned back around and flopped back over on the couch.

Hiro set the phone on the table as he stood, and the singer cracked an eye at him. He shrugged, emptying his pockets onto the table: keys, wallet and change. Crouching, he got comfortable on the floor beside the couch where the singer lay. Leaning over sideways, he set his elbow by Shu's hip and propped his chin up on his palm.

He asked softly, a little worried, "Will you hate me for pushing you into this?"

"Not really." Shuichi said, covering his eyes with a forearm. "At least it's you. I know I can talk to you."

Hiro reached over and stroked from Shu's forehead and over his hair, smoothing the strands back. He repeated the petting, knowing it calmed his best friend. He simply waited, trying to ignore the tears on Shu's face.

"I'm sorry," the moppet murmured.

Puzzled, Hiro asked, "For what?"

"For making you wait. It's been a half a year…"

The guitarist shrugged, "It's alright, Shu. I'm the one who should be apologising when I'm the one pushing you to talk about this before you're ready."

"I love you, Hiro."

Turning his back, the guitarist leaned back against the couch, letting his head fall back onto the seat behind him. He replied, smiling, "Love you, too, buddy."

"I feel like I'm in a therapy session," Shuichi said, the nearest hand reaching to tangle in and play with Hiro's loose hair. "Lying back like this, except it's you."

Hiro waited, knowing the off-hand words would come until Shuichi felt as ready as he would be to finally say what he could.

"With you, I know I can say anything and whatever your reaction, I know you'll never leave me." Shuichi sighed, rolling a lock of red hair around his fingertips. "Sure you can get mad, but you always come back. But now… on one hand, I want to keep things the way they are, because I don't want you to be mad with me. But at the same time, I want to tell you…"

"I promise, Shuichi," Hiro said, finding the familiarity of Shuichi's fiddling comforting. He shut his eyes. "I promise I won't step away even if I get mad."

"You too, huh?"

"Hmm?" he cracked open one eye.

"Never mind." Shu shifted, hiking up to glance down at him. He smiled, "You look like a cat, contentedly letting me pet you."

"_You're_ the kitty," Hiro corrected shutting his eye with a chuckle. He felt Shuichi lie back down. "You're the one who curls up and makes those funny noises. _You're _the one who cosplays, besides. And don't say _petting_…"

There was a knock on the door and Hiro pushed Shuichi back down, indicating he would get the door. He bounded to his feet and crossed the room quickly. He accepted the tea trolley and signed for it, tipping the delivery boy with a bill from the table. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, Hiro poured them each a serving, mixing in the dressings to Shu's liking.

Shuichi ignored the tea and remained lying down. He said, "K."

"Eh?"

"He's been telling me about how I've been worrying you all. You, Suguru and Mika, he talks to you sometimes, gathers 'intelligence' then comes and tells me what's going on."

"So _he's_ the spy," Hiro muttered. As clean as Shuichi was coming, he was prepared to own up to everything they'd been up to. He re-took his place by the couch, tilting his head back as he had earlier, lifting the mass of his hair up over onto the couch for Shu to toy with.

"He's just worried about me," the singer defended. "Don't be mad at him, he's working really hard. He takes time out for me, despite all the work preparing for the merger."

"Merger?"

Shuichi took a deep breath, a soft shudder running through him. Through his hair, Hiro felt the singer's fingers tense up.

"Is this the part where I'm going to get angry?"

"Yeah," Shu said. "Just don't yell, okay?"

Hiro braced himself. "Okay."

Taking a shaky breath, Shuichi said slowly, "There is a possibility that I will be leaving…" Taking another deep breath, he finished, "Leaving Bad Luck."

Hiro froze.

"That is mostly what I have been hiding." He giggled, a touch of hysteria in the sound, "The root of half my worries."

"Shuichi…"

"It used to be," Shu interrupted, forging ahead, and the guitarist shut up. "When I was on stage, I could bare my heart. Singing was freeing, like telling the whole world about all my happiness… and even my worries. It felt like they not only listened, they sympathised. They cared."

The guitarist gulped, a pain he couldn't fathom racing through his heart. Shuichi's announcement had made him sad, worried and angry all at once, but he clamped down on the emotions. His best friend sounded so… defeated.

"But with everything that has been happening and everything that I have been feeling…"

"It hurts to bare your heart," Hiro finished, understanding. He itched to ask what he meant by 'merger' now and how it was related, but kept it in to let Shu talk at his own pace.

"Tohma…" Shuichi paused, as though gathering his thoughts, "Tohma worried the most about me. You know how this will affect a lot of people, the band most of all." He swallowed, "And Eiri."

Hiro took his own shaky breath, a hand coming up to massage his forehead. One of Shu's small hands covered his and he relinquished the massage to his best friend.

"I tried to keep to other people," Shuichi continued, "Didn't want to talk to anyone about it, not those who knew me. Not… you."

Nodding, Hiro reached up again and squeezed the singer's wrist in reassurance.

"Like Tasuki… he wanted to see his dad's homeland; He didn't know who I was until I told him."

Hiro sighed, understanding, "He accepted you."

There was a hint of a smile in Shu's voice when he said, "Brand spanking new he accepted me; it was great! He doesn't know about my past nor has he tried to find out. Just took me as I am, he even refuses to read into my past so that he can appreciate me as I am. I tried to tell him about the tabloid crap and he just laughed."

A thought occurred to him and he asked softly, "Do you love him?"

There was a short shocked silence before Shuichi exclaimed, "No! He really is just a friend!" the singer sighed, "We just hang out. You won't believe how people don't recognise me when I am with him, his flame red hair and me with the rinse out stuff. We're just two dyed-hair boys when we hang out, and somehow no one recognises me. No one has been able to do that for me before, give me real anonymity. He just treats me like a normal guy."

"Does he know about you and… Yuki-san?"

"Kind of hard to miss," Shuichi muttered, "He listens to me talk about Eiri."

"What do you tell him?"

"Lots of things…"

Patiently, Hiro bit his tongue. He had so many questions but he also recognised now was not the time to ask any of them.

"I told him about you, too," the singer admitted softly. "I told him about how you took care of me, got me through school. Got me past the teachers and bullies… arranged my dates, even." They shared a chuckle. "You practically raised me, got me out into the world. Even now, with the band, we're still together and you're still taking care of me."

At the touch of hardness in Shuichi's voice, Hiro understood. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," Shu interrupted, his tone gentle. "You've always done this, kept me safe. And then I met Eiri…"

"I couldn't keep you safe, then," the guitarist heard his voice break. The memories rushed him, he felt so responsible. Shuichi's hand went from massaging his forehead to covering his eyes. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I wanted to… I wanted to…"

"I know."

"And Yuki-san..!"

"Shh…" Shuichi murmured soothingly, lightly smoothing away the escaping moisture before they could stain Hiro's cheeks. "It's all okay. I'm safe."

"I'm sorry," Hiro whispered. "I should have gone with you that night…"

Shuichi rolled over, curling around the top the guitarist's head, both hands smoothing over Hiro's face and hair. When he calmed down, he chuckled a little at himself. All the emotion was giving him a headache. He apologised, and he and Shu lay quietly for a while.

"_He's _the other half of my worries."

Hiro snorted.

"I listen to piano concertos now," Shuichi said softly, thoughtfully, continuing. "Eiri loves them. They don't have lyrics, so they don't mess with his writing. Sometimes he listens to it when he's working. He has CDs of it in his car. He even listens to it when he's sick."

Hiro sat quietly, letting his best friend's hands smooth his anxiety away.

"I listen to it a lot now," Shu said, "and I can almost sense him with me."

Hiro quirked a brow, a small smile tugging at his lips, remembering how puzzled he'd been when he'd caught Shu listening to Bach. "Well that explains _that._"

"Yeah. It puts me to sleep mostly though." The singer huffed, "I love reading now because knowing an author makes me appreciate perspective. I love nice and polished formal clothes but rarely wear them."

"You wore a handsome outfit to that dinner at the Producers' Ball a few weeks ago and that suit to the launch party…"

"I do like that suit," Shuichi told him. "Every time I do any of those things, listen to that music, read a book or wear formal clothes, I think of Eiri." He admitted, "I think about him all the time, always have since I met him. I even think about how I can never compete with his looks."

Hiro smiled a little, recognising the symptoms of an incurable infection called love.

The singer continued, "He's so much a part of me, he's even become part of my family. They like him a lot."

Rolling his eyes, the guitarist snorted rudely and received a small swat over his head for it.

"But I think they see a lot of why I love him, especially my mom."

Hiro smiled, "Your mom?"

"Yep. Maiko told me that she spoke to a friend about us; she called us 'her boys'. That made my day."

Feeling Shuichi's hands in his hair shake a little, Hiro reached up with one hand and held the singer's little hand in his, stroking his thumb across the skin reassuringly.

"You know how much I… felt for him. And after what happened, I thought… I felt dead," Shuichi murmured, curling up a little tighter on the couch behind Hiro's head. "I thought he didn't want me anymore. It felt like my heart was torn out and crushed."

The singer's voice shook and Hiro gave the moppet's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"And you were there again, kept me alive, you, Suguru and K." Shuichi pressed a kiss to the top of Hiro's head. "You guys have no idea how much that meant… how much that means to me."

Pulling Shuichi's hand down past his shoulder and close to his face, Hiro tilted his head and pressed a kiss into the ridiculously small palm.

"Eiri…" Shuichi paused to take a steadying breath, "Mika told me that he really went into rehab and that he sees a therapist. Those are things I would never have expected him to do. But he did."

"He's trying," Hiro found himself saying, "He wants… to be worthy of you."

"I'm still amazed," the singer admitted, "How can I not love him for making those changes? For me."

Hiro paused at those words. Shuichi had not said he loved the writer in along while and it seemed a little strange to his ears. Especially since there seemed to be a tone of defeat, instead of happiness, in the words. "Maybe if you give Yuki-san some time, give your heart some time, you could sing again. Do you really need to quit because of this?"

Shuichi shook his head, not wanting to answer, and closed his eyes.

Gently, Hiro continued, "You still care for him, and things are working out bit by bit. Why are you keeping him away from you?"

Shuichi replied enigmatically, "I need to keep him safe."

Confused, Hiro murmured, "Shuichi?"

"He should move on. Maybe not now, but he will."

"I don't understand, Shu." The guitarist's brows furrowed. "And what if he cannot move on?"

"I can't help him."

Hiro frowned, worriedly, "But you two, you're kind of back together now right?"

Shuichi curled up a little more. "No, we're not."

"Shu?"

"It's complicated. And I don't want to talk about it." The singer sighed, "I know it sounds stupid, _I'm _stupid. I love him but I can't go back to him."

Hiro turned to look at Shu's face, saying, "I don't understand—"

"And you don't have to!" boomed an accented voice from the doorway. Shuichi and Hiro looked up to see K, stance strong, hands on his hips commandingly. He gave the singer a hard look and announced, "Get up, you're coming with me; Doctor's appointment."

Shuichi squeezed Hiro's hand before obediently rising and heading for the door, leaving a very confused guitarist in his wake. K fired Hiro a grinning glance before shutting the door behind them.

With a sigh, the guitarist reached over and picked up his open phone, bringing it directly to his ear. He asked, "Well?"

Yuki-san, in a voice hoarse with tears, said, "Thank you, Nakano-san."

--

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_Da-da da-dum... the circle is tightening around Shuichi. I'm glad things are coming out into the open, which means this story is nearly finished. I can finally end the torment on these characters; I'm really looking forward to that. The next chapter is almost ready, actually, the next update won't take too long._

_With the way things in the story are looking now, there are just a few more concerts to go, including the final tour-ending concert in Tokyo. After that is Shuichi's birthday. I am aiming to finish it for the week after Shu's birthday, actually, just to set myself a deadline. Still working on scene-set, though, so the final chapters are taking a while... sigh might not make it, after all._

_In any case:_

_Many thanks to **LLPeepz13** and **Silverblue-Sakura** for their recent input into this story. BIG thank you also to: **RikuBelongsToTheDark**,** patpat**, **Aryna.Tahashi**, **Jersey Thursday**, **islandeyes**, **cocoke5**, my darling beta **Vindalootoo**, **T.O.C.A.**, **Kamikaze-Sakru** and **MirwenAnareth**. Without your reviews, I would not have smiled as often as I have done recently. Thank you for your support and kind words. Many thanks also go to my readers for the 15,400 hits you've logged up on my stats page._

_That put a big smile on my face too._

_--_


	22. Cannot put Shuichi together again

**22 – Cannot put Shuichi together again…**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **

**All ownership and copyrights for the song "Glaring Dream", as performed by Kotani Kinya, belong to him and his record company. NOT ME. The use of "Glaring Dream" in this chapter is purely for the song's implied emotion which I humble borrow to support my writing. As usual, I make no monetary profit from any Fan Fiction story I produce.**

* * *

-- 

"Thank you, Kyoto!" Shuichi yelled into the microphone, eyes bright with excitement.

His voice was a little hoarse, but he felt as pumped up as when he'd started. Two hours had flow quickly by and it was nearing the end of their concert on the 21st of March. The crowd screamed at him happily when he said,

"I can't believe how great you guys are tonight, there's so much energy in here I'm not even tired!" He winked audaciously at a nearby camera as he went toward centre stage. At the cheers, he said, "Yeah, I know, I know, its not over yet!"

A passing back-up dancer exiting the stage patted his arm and he smiled back. The fast songs were pretty much over now, and the slow ones would come next to wind the night down. At centre stage, he gave the signal. Suguru started up the beats to Glaring Dream, a recently completed song, his fingers dancing over the opening notes. Soon Hiro joined in, making his guitar cry and the crowd began renewed efforts to yell themselves hoarse. By this time, the whole of the Bad Luck fan base were aware that there would be one or two unreleased and unrecorded songs for each concert. Despite not recognising the song, they were ecstatic.

Knowing the crowd could see his face via the large screen mounted behind him, Shuichi raised the microphone to his lips, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As expected, the audience noise suddenly made a swift death.

-

nigiyaka na hitogomi ni tokeru tsubuyaki ga  
ashimoto ni chirabatta omoide nijimaseru  
_The whisper that dissolves into the bustling crowd  
makes the memories scattered underfoot blur together. _

mayoi aruku machi no kagayaki wa Glaring One Way  
kogoesou na boku o terasu  
_The blazing of the street where I walk, lost, (glaring one way)  
illuminates me so coldly it's almost freezing._

tsumetai toki ga yume o furaseru kono te no naka o surinukete  
negai kazoe mezameta toki ni  
_The cold times make dreams fall like rain and slip through my hands.  
When I woke up from the countless wishes, _

yureru maboroshi ni kimi ga utsuru  
boku o michibiku kasuka na SILHOUETTE  
_you are reflected in a shimmering illusion --  
The silhouette whose faint smile leads me along._

nagasareru fuan dake o tsugeru yasashisa mo  
eien ni mitasareta ashita mo hoshikunai  
_Even if the gentleness, that tells about only what makes  
anxiety flow, have fulfilled eternity --I still don't want tomorrow. _

kimi ni todokeru hazu no kotoba wa Talk To Myself  
kage mo naku hibi ni ochiru  
_The words that I want to tell you; I talk to myself.  
Falling into an everyday routine, even without shadows._

furueru yubi de yume o kasaneru iki mo dekizu ni kuzureteku  
tashika na koto futashika sugite nani o shinjireba kimi ni aeru?  
shiroku kieteku ano hi no SILHOUETTE  
_With a trembling finger, I gather up the dreams; without even breathing on them, they're crumbling.  
Even the certain things are too unreliable; if I believe in something, can I be with you again?  
It's whitely vanishing, the silhouette of that day._

awaku somaru kisetsu o miageru Life Winter Dream  
tachidomaru boku o sarau  
_Looking up at that palely-dyed season (Life Winter Dream)  
I, who stopped to stand still, am swept away. _

kaze ni kesareru torinokosareru mune ni kajikamu akogare mo  
tsumetai toki ga yume ni tadayou sono te no naka ni uketomete  
_The wind blows it out, makes it be left behind; even the yearning is growing numb from the cold in my heart.  
The cold times drift about in dreams, but are caught and held in your hands. _

negai kazoe mezameta toki ni yureru maboroshi ni kimi ga utsuru  
boku o michibiku kasuka na SILHOUETTE  
_When I woke up from the countless wishes, you are reflected in a shimmering illusion --  
The silhouette whose faint smile leads me along…_

-

Taking a deep breath, Shu opened his awareness again, realising his eyes had begun to tear. He closed down on his tears, not letting them fall, and opened his eyes to smile at the crowd. The energy, despite the emotion of the song, drove the happiness of performing into his eyes. It was not, as his smiles had become, a dead smile.

Turning around, he bowed to Suguru and Hiro, the crowd still yelling and stamping their appreciation for the song. He would not be able to speak at all for a few moments. It was a good song, he had to admit, and he knew they had another hit on their hands with that one. Suguru looked pleased, obviously thinking the same thing, but Hiro was watching him with a concerned look on his face. Shu grinned and waved, and the guitarist dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Turning back around to face the audience, he sneaked a look over to his right, eyes scanning until… there. Smiling faintly, concealed alone at side-stage, hands in his pockets stood Eiri. Shu smiled at him and the author lifted a hand in a quick wave.

From beside the writer, Shuichi turned his eyes on the stage hand stepping out with the requisite red rose, _Semblance of Self_ album, and ticket-stub in his hands. Accepting the items, he nodded his thanks. If it was even possible, the crowd began to scream yet louder. Startled by the rising sound, his usual clumsiness nearly got the better of him, juggling the microphone, the rose, ticket-stub, and the CD, and he nearly dropped the mic. The crowd laughed and Shu shrugged, grinning sheepishly as he slid the receiver into a nearby stand.

Smiling, Shuichi held the rose up in a sort of salute. The noise which had just begun to die down resumed and the singer stomped his foot in mock severity. Laughing, the shouting died down, this time to near-silence.

"It's now time to announce our stage guest winner," Shuichi announced, grinning again. He held up the ticket-stub, "And the winner is…. Ticket number 10463!"

From the rear left of the concert hall came a shrill scream, and the nearest free-running camera man made a mad dash to the area. On the screens, Shuichi turned to watch, appeared a girl pointing at her seatmate and weeping enviously. Staring quietly down with disbelief at the ticket-stub in her hands sat a well-dressed office woman… Shu's eyes were drawn to the young girl sitting quietly next to her, who appeared no more than 16 years old.

Shuichi's brows furrowed at the lady, who turned and pushed the ticket into the young girl's hands, whispering quickly into her ear. The girl smiled hugely, excited, and stood. It was then Shu noticed her eyes.

He dumped the items he held onto the floor near the base of the microphone stand and rushed to one side of the stage to issue instructions to the nearest stage manager. It took some time, but eventually the girl was led to the stage along with her aunt. Both ladies were escorted slowly on stage, accommodating the young girl whom Shu had noticed was blind. The singer rushed to the side stairs excitedly to welcome them.

By this time, the crowd had become a little impatient and there were loud demands for the singing to recommence. Shuichi accepted a second wireless microphone as he came to stand beside the girl, taking over from the stage assistant.

Walking along with the two, he made time to say, "Hey everyone! Sorry about how long this is taking…"

From beside him, the girl's face snapped up toward the sound of his voice. Her eyes widened and her hand in his grip tightened.

"But she was at the very baaaack of the hall and it took forever to get her here!" He gave the girl's hand a squeeze, turning the mic off and laying it down on a speaker as they passed. Turning to the girl, he said, "I'm Shuichi. What's your name?"

"It's Haruko," she said. "Honda Haruko."

"Can I call you Haruko-chan?" He led both ladies to centre stage, nodding to another stage assistant who had just set up the folding chairs for their guests. He smiled at the girl's aunt, who smiled nervously back.

"Yes, of course!" Haruko smiled sweetly, obviously very excited. She shyly tried out his name, "Shuichi-san."

"Hi!" he told Haruko's aunt.

"Michi," said the lady with a short bow. He and Michi helped Haruko into her seat and Shu spoke into the main wireless from the stand.

"No, silly, there aren't two winners tonight!" the singer said and the crowd groaned. "But Haruko-chan is here with her aunt so we didn't want to separate them." He smiled at Haruko who clasped hands with her aunt. Picking up the rose he had put down earlier, he handed up the CD to Hiro who had just come up behind him.

"Nice going, Shu," Suguru nodded, smiling, indicating Haruko. Shuichi grinned then turned to take the girl's hand so he could put the rose into her grasp directly with his other hand.

Hiro leaned over to the mic, "To Haruko-hime, the Kyoto Princess," he wrote the words with his red marker into the CD insert as he spoke, "Welcome to the Kyoto stage with Bad Luck."

Suguru accepted the CD, pulling out his own green pen. He spoke as he wrote as well, before passing the case to Shuichi. The singer fumbled a bit with the disk and pen, eliciting more laughs from the crowd. He grinned impishly when he was done.

--

* * *

After the 'serenade' song, when Shu helped Haruko off the stage, he led the ladies and his band to the backstage refreshment table. When they had drinks in hand, he told their guests sincerely, "Thank you for coming tonight." 

Bowing politely alongside her aunt, Haruko murmured, "Thank you for having us. I hope you feel better soon, Shuichi-san."

Shuichi had been expecting something like that when the girl obviously had sensitive hearing. He nodded though the girl would not see it. He bowed in return, casually and said, "Thank you. I hope so too."

"Haruko!" Michi scolded softly. Shuichi snuck a glance at Hiro nodding to Suguru who pardoned himself to attend to the packing of their instruments. The synth-master was not one to entertain for long.

"It's alright, Michi-san," the singer said, grinning, a little embarrassed to have gotten Haruko in trouble. "I supposed she would hear it in my voice when I sang."

Michi flushed a little but reacted to Shu's infectious goodness by smiling herself. "Ah, she does have the tendency to hear things most never do."

"Maa," Hiro chuckled, "I'm just glad you both had a good time."

"Which is why I must ask, Haruko-chan," Shuichi said, letting Hiro occupy Michi, lowering his voice and leaning in toward the taller girl. She bent a little as though sensing his closeness. "Can you not tell anyone?"

Haruko looked sad for a moment. She titled her chin toward her aunt and Hiro briefly, as though trying to sense if either were paying them any attention. She leaned in just a fraction closer and said, "You have to tell them, Shuichi-san. So they can be strong for you when you cannot be."

Startled, the singer stood back up straight. Michi looked over, as did the guitarist. She caught the look on Shu's face, asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Ah? No, of course not!" Shuichi blinked. He nodded and she turned back to Hiro. The singer looked hard into Haruko's unseeing eyes.

"Hello!" said a booming voice in English, coming up behind them. Michi surprised them by answering in the same language. K enjoyed the rare opportunity to speak in English with a lovely lady.

While the others were distracted again, this time it was Shuichi who stepped closer, his hand gently curling around Haruko's forearm. Softly, he asked, "What do you mean?"

She answered simply, "Don't lose hope."

--

* * *

"Sounds creepy…" 

"Sakuma-san," Shuichi whined into his phone as he packed his suitcase with only one hand. "It was _not_ creepy!"

"Eeh! Well, _I _think it was." The singer's voice turned softly admonishing, a pout audible in his tone, "Ne, Shu-chan. Do you think you will tell anyone? I think your friends... you know, can take it…"

"I know they can," Shuichi admitted. "But maybe I can't."

"But Shu-chan is so sad-sad!" Ryuichi wailed, his vocal control impressive despite the childishness. "They want you to sparkle-sparkle as much as I do!"

"I know…" Shu flopped onto his bed, giving up the job which he couldn't do properly in the middle of a conversation. "I can't sparkle in the dark."

"That's right!" Ryuichi crowed. "Must have lots of light! Shuichi-light!" His voice changed again, a low and solemn whisper, "I want to make sure that you always do, you know? You are the only one who has ever sparkled so much…"

Shuichi frowned, sitting up in bed when Ryuichi trailed off. "Sakuma-san?"

"Sparkled so much that it blinds me," he finished. "Anything less wasn't worth my attention, it was one of the reasons why I could never tolerate all the other NG bands. Tohma despaired of finding anything to occupy me in Japan."

Shuichi nodded, understanding dawning, and asked, "Is that why you went to America?"

"By sheer volume, there was supposed to be a greater success rate of finding me someone shiny; but then I came back for a vacation and found you." His voice turned playful again when he said, "And that was that!"

Shuichi smiled softly to himself, "Thank you."

Ryuichi giggled, his voice blissful and carefree when he said, "Shiny-shiny, Shu-chan!" He laughed then said, "I can't wait to sparkle with you again!"

He stifled a sigh, knowing full well there wouldn't be a chance to sing with his idol until the final tour-ending concert on the 10th of April, just a few days before his birthday. And after that, the future was quite uncertain. But seeing as how that would be their best chance, smiling, Shuichi said,

"Me too. We can talk to Tohma and ask him to take you to my last Tokyo concert in April."

"But there will be so many more days after April!" Ryuichi crowed. "So many, many days to sparkle! And we can draw, and sketch, and colour, and sparkle some more!"

Shuichi felt a headache coming on but said agreeably, "Sure, Sakuma-san, we sure do."

"Shuichi is saad…" Ryuichi pouted. He brightened a bit when he declared, "Tohma and I need to cheer you up!"

"Don't bother Tohma," Shuichi said quickly, aware Ryuichi was in the NG building at that very moment. "He's really busy and I can talk to him myself later!" He got up and paced his room nervously. "Sakuma-san—"

"Too late!" Ryuichi giggled, "I'm already in Tohma-chan's office!" There was a bit of background noise before the NG president himself came on the line.

"Shuichi?" He sounded worried, "Is everything alright?"

Coming to a slump-shouldered stop and stifling a groan, Shuichi tried to sound calm when he said, "Everything is perfectly fine, Seguchi-san."

He could have smacked himself on the forehead when Tohma said, "Shuichi, you just addressed me as Seguchi-san. Everything is not 'perfectly fine'."

Oops.

"Well, then," Shuichi scratched his head, scrambling mentally for something good to say, "Everything will _be_ perfectly fine…?"

"Shuichi." The singer cringed at the tone of voice. "Tell me what is going on."

"Um, Eiri and I…" He grasped onto a brilliant idea, "We're sort of… back... together? I don't know!" The end of his sentence ended in a wail. He flapped his arm a bit, completely flustered. There was even a very real edge of panic in his voice when he finished which for the moment, he thought, was a good thing right now to keep Tohma off his tail.

After a long pause, Tohma said softly, "I see."

"I wanna see too!" Ryuichi exclaimed in the background.

"Hush, Ryuichi-san," Tohma said patiently then into the phone said, "How do you feel about this?"

Shuichi hesitated, resuming his pacing, suddenly not sure he should have mentioned the recent development, "I'm not… sure…"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes…?"

There was a soft smile in Tohma's voice when he said, "'Yes' you do, or 'yes' you're asking _me?_"

"I…" Shuichi felt like waving his arm again. This was making his headache worse. "I…"

Sighing, Tohma said, "Never mind."

Huffing his breath, the singer pouted. He'd only meant to distract the man, not back himself into a corner. He decided to sit down before he hurt himself.

"Shuichi." The singer snapped to attention warily. There seemed to be a light undertone of warning in the president's voice when he said, "I trust you to tell me when something is wrong."

"Yes," Shuichi said, crossing his fingers, surprised by the calm in his own voice. He slumped over where he sat, closed his eyes and willed his voice to remain steady. "Of course."

--

* * *

"Something is wrong." 

K's eyes sparkled in a way that would have had his co-working running for cover. His eyes searched out and found the lead singer of Bad Luck, who smiled at his best friend as they sat together in a booth further up toward the front of the moving tour bus.

Softly he said, "I see."

"Let me know how it goes."

"Yes, sir."

The American hung up the call and tucked his mobile away into a breast-pocket. Eyes shielded by his sunglasses, he kept his gaze on Shuichi, watching the kid's face, and his hands worked automatically with the pieces of his disassembled guns on his pull-down table. There was tension there on Shu's face he didn't like and which he had hoped he could continue to ignore. But if what Tohma had just said was any indication, there was going to be a lot more trouble up ahead than he would ever have liked. His phone rang again. Recognising the number, he sat back and flipped the phone open. He carefully held the speaker away from his ear when he said,

"Hello, Ryuichi."

"K-san!" The singer excitedly screeched, "Hello!"

With the danger past, he tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, "How are you?"

"Happy!" The singer told him but his voice became pouty when he then said, "But I'm also sad…"

Nodding knowingly, K asked, "Is this about Shuichi?"

"K-san can read my mind!" Ryuichi gasped.

Chuckling, K resumed the gun-care he had set aside earlier when Tohma had called. "Actually, I just spoke to Tohma and—"

"Tohma didn't tell me!" the singer interrupted suddenly, sounding indignant. "He didn't say he was going to talk to K-san today!"

"Well, he did." K reassembled one of his beloved magnums, admiring how clearly his reflection showed on the barrel. Pushing things along, he said, "Did you want to ask me something about Shuichi?"

"No." K froze. The dangerous tones of Ryuichi's _very_ serious voice came through loud and clear when he said, "I have spoken to a few people, most recently to Nakano-san, who says things are still bad. Shuichi is losing hope."

The hint of warning in the singer's voice did not escape the gunman. Softly, he asked, "What are you saying?"

"He is giving up on us, on everything." Ryuichi growled lowly, saying, "I suspect he does not expect to come back from America."

K slowly said, "And with doubts like that…"

"In an operation where hope means the difference between coming out of it alive and… not,"

Closing his eyes wearily, the gunman wearily finished, "…he really might not come back at all."

Soon after his conversation with Ryuichi ended, K placed a call of his own. He beckoned Hiro over to join him as he dialled and they moved together to a small room at the back of the bus where they put the call on speakerphone. Quietly, he explained what he had learned, the guitarist quickly catching on to the conversation. When the gunman finished his end of the story, Hiro explained the rest of what he knew including some fine details about _Glaring Dream_, Honda Haruko's words and his own conclusions regarding a recent conversation with Shuichi.

When they were finished, Tohma sighed then told them, "I will speak to Ryuichi immediately, and call you back K-san. Knowing what we do now, I think that we will have to break Shuichi's trust after all."

--

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_The plot thickens yet further... Meanwhile, t__here will be another bit of a break while I sort out the closing chapters of this story. I mentioned this in the author notes of my previous chapter, I'm just reiterating it now. The final chapters need some real T&C considering the emotional impact I want them to reflect, so please be patient. These are the closing chapters after all._

_Thanks to **Vindalootoo** and **Nittle-mania** for their corrections for chapter Unlikely Allies. I'd put off adjusting the bit in there about the origin of Latin, Japanese and Chinese. I made some minor, less specific adjustments just to get the basics of the point across. I researched rather poorly from the looks of things. Thank you again, do feel free to notify me if there is still something wrong._

_**Vindalootoo**, I miss you...! My gratitude goes to **Jamoldred **who praise for my emotional writing made me really happy. Thanks also to **MirwenAnareth **for reminding me that this is my story and I should tell it like I want to and if you don't like the wordiness, well that's just too bad. I trimmed my writing down enough, any more and I will lose too much of what I am trying to say. I need to write it like I see it. _

_But still, t__hank you for all the reviews! They mean a lot to me but I shouldn't be ruled by them. But I still love hearing what people have to say. In any case, there don't seem to be any very specific questions to answer at this point, so... __As usual, don't forget to feed(back) me!_

_

* * *

_


	23. Killing Me

_Author notes:_

_Yes, I'm back. Sorry for the delay. It's been a disgusting last few weeks for me. End of year billing, lead adminitrator on holiday, I went on holiday with my Dad and his two daughters... bringing my own two half-sisters from my Mother's side along (picture it, five girls and one car, through Paris, York, London and Scarborough), moving house... not even into the house I was supposed to move to. And finally, my laptop crashed._

_(takes a bow)_

_Here's the chapter:_

**

* * *

****Chapter 23  
****Killing me  
****19 April 2007 **

* * *

--

There was something wrong.

If there was any doubt before, today had eradicated it. Eiri had watched Shuichi scamper around Kyoto's Nintendo Headquarters with greater fervour than usual and that kind of over excited nervousness (add a dash of an odd wistfulness), and there was nothing in the world that could possibly convince the author now that everything was just fine.

No matter what anyone said, the little singer did not always behave like a caffeine over-dosed energizer bunny with ADD. Well, Eiri knew at least that much. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't.

When they made their stop at the restaurant for an end of the day sundae, Eiri quietly watched Shuichi eat his dessert… and damn near forgot what it was he was so worried about. He stared as Shuichi licked and sucked his way through the sticky goodness, stomping violently down on the urge to squirm.

That or the urge to lean across the table and snatch Shuichi up into his arms and ravish the little singer.

With a sigh, the writer tore his eyes away from the delicious sight and focused on the group of crying kids not too far off to his right, outside the café from where the noise thankfully did not reach him.

"Yeah, now I know something is wrong," Shuichi said, "When the untameable bachelor Yuki Eiri-san stares wistfully at children."

Cleverly, Eiri sought to turn this initiative as a start into a conversation he very much wanted to have. He remembered something his therapist had said: When you want to know something of another person, you should volunteer something of yourself first. So he said,

"I did want to have children."

Shuichi's jaw dropped onto the table.

"I thought I would raise my kids in the exact opposite way my father raised me." He felt rather embarrassed admitting this. Only Mika had ever heard about this. "I calculated that I would end up with perfectly happy and adjusted children. So I could tell my father he had really been the one at fault I ended up the way I did despite my blonde hair."

Eiri turned to look at Shuichi, seeing the wide amethyst eyes he admired so much. Shu seemed to be recovering from the shock of the confession and so the writer continued,

"But then New York happened and that was all gone." He resisted the urge to succumb to the desolation thinking about his former teacher brought him. He seized upon another shocker and, smirking, said, "Now when I think about kids with blonde hair, they inevitably have your eyes."

Shuichi jaw dropped, this time, to the floor.

Picking up his coffee, Eiri took a leisurely sip, waiting for the dazed expression to fade from Shu's face. Well, that certainly had the desired effect. But then in the next moment, Eiri wanted to scold himself. That line of thinking would never come to pass between two men. But it was a nice thought, he supposed, and something he could use in his next novel. He frowned.

He had never written of his characters having kids before…

The realisation pulled him away from the moment, from Shuichi and their troubles. He forgot about wondering what was wrong with his lover and he drifted away into his writing world.

"Are your characters having kids now?"

Eiri started, and stared. "How did you know that?"

"We were just talking about it!" Shu giggled and spooned up some more of his ice cream. "When you get that look on your face, you're itching for your lap top."

It suddenly occurred to Eiri that he didn't know Shu's expression when the kid wanted his notebook. Instead, curiously he asked, "Do I have a lot of… looks?"

Shuichi laughed cheerfully. When he quieted, he smilingly said, "You have more looks than anyone I know. You're an interesting person, Eiri."

"Hn," the writer huffed, taking another drink. "Didn't know you thought so much of me."

Eiri wanted to kick himself when Shuichi looked away, humour fading from his face. The writer figured that Shu must have recalled his greatest sin. Shit! He did not want Shuichi thinking about then when it had taken so much for them to get where they were now, something approaching positive.

It didn't escape his attention the singer still thought of their current state as something temporary. Hell, he thought of that not so little catch every waking moment. Surely, whatever it was, that last insecurity holding his lover back, if only they could get past that then there really would be a chance for them to be together again.

And this time…

--

"I am not letting him go," the writer stated emphatically. "I don't give a shit what you say, I won't give up without a fight."

"I am aware of that, Eiri-san," Tohma soothed softly, "I am not questioning your feelings for Shuichi-san, merely reaffirming what I already know."

"Hn." The writer tucked his mobile between his chin and shoulder, lifting both hands to his lips to nip out a cigarette from the pack and light it up. "The hell you asking questions to which you already know the answer, Tohma, that's not like you."

"Yes, indeed it isn't." Tohma paused and the writer knew then that he was about to have his world turned on its ear again.

Bracing himself, a grimace on his face, Eiri asked, "What is it now?"

"Shuichi."

"Isn't it always?" Eiri sighed. Tone firming, he resolutely asked, "Am I going to be shaken or stirred?"

"Think whirlpool," Tohma suggested, "You have until the end of this tour and Shuichi's birthday to win him completely over."

"Damn it!" Eiri snapped, "Fucking hell you giving me a dead line for?!"

"Not I, Eiri-san," With a sigh Tohma said, "But circumstance. I am treading dangerously on the line of breaking Shuichi's trust here, please know that, telling you even this much. But based on what I know he is going through, I am calculating that unless you have him committed to you by his birthday, you will never get him back."

"Bloody fucking hell!!"

"Yes," Tohma murmured absently, "I thought you would say that."

--

"What else was I supposed to say?" Eiri demanded hotly.

Hiro put his hands up in placating surrender, "I didn't mean anything by asking."

"The fuck you didn't!" the writer snarled. He tapped a cigarette out of his rapidly emptying pack and snatched it with his teeth before absently offering the guitarist a smoke. Hiro took one quickly, before Eiri decided he really was in a bad mood and took them back. So much for quitting, he thought, thinking about Ayaka. At this rate, they would both be back to smoking like chimneys.

"I just want to make sure," Hiro reasoned, more than a little amused at the sight of a very worried Yuki Eiri. Such an unusual sight it was. "And I'm glad you're still… steadfast."

The writer glared, eyes flashing particularly at the sight of Hiro's guiltily twitching lips. Turning away, Hiro lit up, hiding his smile and taking the time to wipe the humour from his face. Casually, he said,

"So all you have to do is work as hard as you have been and everything will be alright… right?"

"The hell should I know?!"

Hiro sighed, but knew better than to push the already pressured novelist. He knew from Shuichi's stories that Eiri did not take too well to being teased when under stress. And this situation certainly counted as one of those times… he wanted to keep his hide, thank you very much.

"Thanks."

Wondering if he had somehow mis-heard, Hiro opened his mouth… and quickly shut it. Best not to question these things, he decided, and nodded instead, "Yeah, good luck."

"I think I'll need it," Eiri replied absently, eyes following Shuichi who had just stepped out of the main tour bus, duffle bag in hand to spend the night with Eiri in his hotel room.

Nodding his pardon, the writer stepped away and over to Shu's side. K was issuing last minute orders and the singer needed to wait for last minute permission or there would be hell to pay if the gunman went looking for him later.

They had just arrived in Hiroshima, the twenty-fourth of March, for their concert on the twenty-sixth. In the light of dusk, Shu's pink hair glimmered unusually, a rosy hue giving the singer's eyes an other-worldly contrast. In this light, he looked unbelievably beautiful. Eiri stared as he walked over, eyes skimming over this beautiful boy who meant his whole damned life to him.

So distracted was he that he didn't realise Shuichi and K had already spoken, however briefly, just to let the manager know that they would be leaving, watching the singer until the kid was standing right before him.

"Hey," Shu muttered, a shy smile on his face, as though he knew precisely what Eiri had been thinking.

"Hey," the novelist whispered back. On an even more muted volume, just under his breath, he added, "I love…" Shu's eyes widened, as did (Eiri soon realised) his own. Where had that come from? But shit, he meant it… he wondered if he should have said it. He resisted the urge to scowl, embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. He looked away instead then at a normal volume asked, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah…" the singer fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking a little miserable.

"Let me carry that," And Eiri snatched up Shu's bag, slinging it over his shoulder before the singer could protest. He turned to lead the way, glancing over his shoulder at Shu to nod his head in indication they should go. Quietly, Shu came to walk with him.

By his side, Eiri thought. This was how he wanted it, he realised. Shuichi with him; waking to Shu's morning exuberance, the mid-day phone calls checking up on him, afternoon voice mail messages and finally calling him back to be asked what he would like for dinner…

Selfish, he told himself. Such selfish ideas and habits, he realised, and even now his motives were selfish. He frowned to himself, beeping his car key fob to unlock his vehicle and leading the way to the boot. He popped it open and, instead of tossing the bag in as he carelessly would, set it down. Coming around to the passenger side, he opened the door for Shuichi… Who suddenly wasn't there.

He started, looking over his shoulder, a little twinge of fear snaking its way into his heart. This felt too much like how things were going in his life with Shuichi, metaphorically. Wanting Shu to be part of his life, needing the boy with him to give and receive love, thinking everything is alright only to turn around and not find Shuichi there.

"Shu?" He found the kid a ways back where they had come, standing by the car boot and fidgeting madly. "Is something wrong?"

"We don't need to stay together tonight, you know," Shu murmured hesitantly, looking away to the tour buses. "I mean, if you don't want to—"

"I want to," Eiri interrupted, annoyed Shu would think he didn't want the singer with him. Shu's gaze snapped to his face, meeting his gaze. "Hell, if I had my way, I wouldn't--" Let you leave me side, he wanted to say. He amended that to: "Leave your side."

He held the door open and waited, heavy bands tightening around his heart until finally Shuichi stepped forward and came to stand before him. Looking down into Shu's amethyst eyes, the tightness moved up into his throat and Eiri could not resist slowly bending down… Gently, eyes half open looking into blurry violet eyes, he brushed his lips across Shuichi's. Softly, the singer responded, lips bowing and catching at Eiri's bottom lip and sending sparks of fire tingling up along the writer's spine.

Shuichi sighed and Eiri sensed a kind of surrender in the muted tone. When he straightened up, Eiri felt a small smile crease the corner of his lips and he knew then that –if only for tonight—things would be okay.

--

Definitely better than okay, he thought. Eiri looked down at Shuichi's closed eyes and calm face, and felt the nth smile of the day worm its way across his face.

Lying on his side in the large king-sized bed, he scooted closer before propping the side of his head up on his palm. Shu's hands, curled before him on the pillow, unfurled to spread small fingertips across the writer's chest and Eiri's ghost of a curve turned into a real smile.

"Hey," he whispered and Shuichi smiled too, eyes still closed. Eiri cautioned, "Don't move. Just let me stare."

Shuichi cracked open an eye, a sparkle in them the writer really missed, before he shut it again. He remained still, even as Eiri lifted a hand and dusted his fingertips over the blankets over the singer's thigh, up over his hip, up along the side of his back and over the blanket edge to slip up onto a smooth shoulder. Lightly, Eiri continued on and stroked the singer's collarbone. He dipped his index finger into the hollow of Shu's collarbone at the base of that smooth throat then slowly down that narrow, hairless chest…

Eiri thought back to just a little earlier, to the view of that chest heaving, those arms clinging. The length of that pale throat stretched up and convulsing with strangled moans.

With a small shiver, the writer reined in his libido and schooled himself to calm. But then Shuichi's small hands disappeared beneath the blankets and a cool touch encased his interested manhood… With a small, breathless moan, Eiri's eyes slipped shut and he bowed forward. Hunching over Shuichi's snuggling form, he curved his hand around the small of the singer's bottom and squeezed.

"Shuichi," he murmured breathlessly.

Leaning over Shu, he pressed the singer onto his back and bent, capturing Shuichi's lips in a mad kiss. Thrusting his hips, Eiri licked Shu's bottom lip, Shu surrendering his hold on the writer's hardness to reach up and curl small hands around Eiri's shoulders. The press of Shu's hardness against his made Eiri dizzy and he gasped into the kiss.

Undulating, pressing back, Shuichi carefully massaged his way from Eiri's shoulders, down to firm hips and clenched his little hands into the firm muscles of the writer's buttocks. Eiri gave a soft grunt, mouthing at the singer's jawline and along down his neck to nibble at Shu's shoulder, biting softly. When Shuichi squirmed beneath him, Eiri couldn't help but arc back up to catch Shuichi's lips with his own. Pressing the singer's mouth open, Eiri tangled his tongue with Shu's and gave the wet muscle a light nip.

Shuichi moaned and lifted his legs, hooking his ankles around Eiri's waist, his hands reaching to grip Eiri's hips and guide them to align with his own. Suddenly finding his hardness poised at Shu's entrance, Eiri nudged forward, his hardness sliding along the cooling wetness of the lube they'd used earlier, into the slipping gel warmed by the singer's body. The heat of Shu's body he could sense by such proximity was beginning to drive him mad. Resisting the instinct to slam forward, he instead began to slowly rhythmically drive forward going deeper each time until finally, finally, he was fully encased in the singer's wet warmth.

"Eiri!" Shu cried softly, curling upward to cling to him.

Gasping, Eiri rocked against Shuichi, the beginning of an easy rhythm. He built it up slowly, knowing that despite Shuichi's demands for him to hurry, the singer really had his most amazing climaxes when Eiri prolonged their love-making. Even if the heat of the singer's body made him want to slam himself into Shu hard and fast, he didn't want this to end and wanted to make this as good for his lover as he could. Arching upward off the bed, Shuichi gave a high cry, his hands scrabbling over the writer's back as he to lose his sense of self.

Gods, Eiri's own mind seemed to be slipping away from him, too. He bent and nipped at Shuichi's jaw, the singer turning his face to pant into his own shoulder. Following, Eiri licked along Shuichi's upper lip and started to speed up his movements.

Wimpering, the singer managed, "Gods, Eiri, hurry…"

"No," Eiri whispered, leaning forward and pushing deep. He held the pose so that Shuichi whimpered and curl upward into it, lower back lifting off the bed.

"But I can't…"

"Slowly," the writer insisted. Arms wrapped around Eiri's shoulders, Shu threw his head back and he gave a half-shout, almost a scream. Cooing, Eiri repeated, "Slowly…"

"No, please," Shu begged panting, groaning, eyes fully dilated. "Please…"

Eiri gave a series of mad, deep and fast thrusts and the singer mewled, thrusting back into each shove. Pushing deeply, Eiri leaned forward again and held himself there, once again forcing the singer to hunch upward into him, lower back lifting once more as Shu struggled to rise up into the pressure of the hardness inside him.

When Shuichi cried out again, Eiri's thoughts lost coherence and he resumed thrusting. Building up the rhythm, Eiri moved madly with his lover until everything in his senses registered nothing but wet heat, Shuichi's breathless moans and the tightness surrounding him. The liquid fire pooled heavily in his belly, threatening to explode but still he managed to breathlessly whisper,

"I love you, Shuichi…"

"I--"

"Shuichi!" Eiri demanded, so close but keeping the rhythm.

Desperately, Shu arched off the bed, hoarsely crying, "I love you… Eiri!"

When Shuichi's wetness pumped against his stomach, Eiri gave a hoarse shout and let himself go. The sensations swept heavily over him and the emotion closed at his throat. This had become everything to him, hadn't it? Loving Shuichi not just in bed, but out of it and in even small ways, in every way he could imagine and make up.

With that came a thought he had never really considered: Did he really, truly, deserve Shuichi after everything?

Filled with both hope and determination, the doubt and longing, he knew… he didn't have the allowance to doubt himself. This was the last chance he would ever get and this opportunity wasn't coming again… he knew that and yet--

Pulling out and collapsing on his stomach beside Shuichi, he murmured, "I don't deserve you do I?" Dazed, confusion registered on his features, Shuichi panted. Eiri continued, "I keep thinking that I'm selfish, that I don't deserve to have you." He sighed, "That I deserve for you to leave me when this tour is over."

The singer's wide amethyst eyes filled with tears even as the post-orgasmic bliss gave his features a pleasant glow.

"I keep thinking," Eiri admitted, "That if you leave me, I am never going to have you back… that when you turn to go, I will never see you again." His voice cracked now as he spoke and he could not help but move closer and pull Shuichi into his arms. "I don't want to make the same mistake again, I don't want to let you go and watch you walk away. I…"

Shuichi hugged him back, tacit and sad. He continued to breathe heavily but he remained silent as he clung to Eiri, and the writer wondered how many more of these he would get before everything ended between them.

"Please, Shuichi, tell me."

"I don't--"

"Whatever it is that's tearing you up," Eiri whispered, speaking into the mop of pink tucked partly under his chin, "Whatever it is that's holding you back and breaking your heart," He closed his eyes, the tears finally slipping free. "Whatever it is that's keeping you from being happy, with or without me."

"Eiri…"

"Tell me."

"Eiri, please…" Shu seemed to get his breathing under control quickly at this point. The singer's hands still clung and Eiri hoped it was because the kid still wanted to be in his arms… Shu hadn't pulled away yet, in any case. He wanted to press his luck; this was all driving him insane with frustration.

"Shuichi—"

"No," came Shu's harsh voice, head ducking down, shoulders hunching.

Eiri stiffened before whispering, "Why?"

"Please, Eiri, just let me…" Shu swallowed, snuggling close, "Just let me stay here with you like this, just us two…"

"This is difficult for me, Shu," Eiri muttered, pulling away a little and looking down at him. But Shu kept his face down, maintaining his gaze with the writer's chest. "Having you in my arms but not truly in my life so for me, I also ask you, please…"

"I can't!" Shu sobbed, pulling away as well. He seemed to snap when he raised his voice saying, "I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone, I just want to be with you--"

"But you aren't with me." Eiri frowned, truly annoyed. "You're here in my arms but you're not with me. You've locked yourself away and I--" With frustration, the writer scrubbed a hand through his hair. Shuichi sat up and pulled himself into a ball, hugging his knees. "I just want…"

"No." Shu turned away as Eiri sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and getting to his feet, almost stumbling with the results of their earlier love-making.

"Shuichi," Eiri called, worried, "Wait."

"NO!"

Shuichi limped over to the foot of the bed and plucked up his underwear, cringing when a dribble of wetness made its way from his bottom and started down his thigh. He paused to wipe at it, ignoring Eiri. The writer grabbed up his earlier discarded shirt, not caring about the risk of stains. He bent to his knees and carefully wiped the mess away, aware that Shu held very still as he moved. Glancing up, he saw the tears on his lover's face,

"You don't understand," Shu murmured, crying quietly. "And I don't want you to. You said I have the control, that I am the one who gets to--"

"Don't," he interrupted, panic shooting through him

Swallowing, Shuichi steeled himself, "You said that I get to choose when--"

"Please." Oh Gods, no.

"But you said--"

"Don't end this because I want to get closer," Eiri snarled softly. Fear swept over him, he couldn't move.

"I'm ending it before you do!" the singer argued, tossing his soiled underwear aside and pulling away from Eiri. He turned for his suitcase, saying, "You _asked _me and I refused, but you're still pushing me!"

"It's been weeks, won't you even _consider _letting me in on what this is all about?" Following right on Shu's heels, Eiri had begun to breathe fire. After everything, all he had given. He didn't know what else he could do! It's not like he knew what Shu wanted from him… Gods, Tohma's words rang in his head; the deadline.

"Time passing was not part of the deal!" Shuichi yelled as he bent to rummage for new boxers. "You told me you would be content with whatever I could give you, and this is not in my comfort zone!" He stood and glared, waving the article of clothing before him as he gesticulated. "This is all out of control. Out of _my _control!"

"Sometimes, it's not about control, Shuichi!" Eiri refused to beg. Instead, he snapped, "There comes a time you have to turn things over to someone else!"

"And that would require _trust!_" Eiri started, hurt though he said nothing. Realising what he had implied, the singer shook his head, backing away, "I didn't--"

"I deserve that," the writer admitted, voice quieting. "But I don't think I deserve to be pushed away."

"Yeah, you should have the right to move away of your own accord," the singer sighed.

Shuichi turned away and began to dress, Eiri remaining still and puzzled. He watched until Shu was fully clothed, not sure what to say, not finding words he _could _say. Shu passed by him and he reached out, catching the signer off guard and pulled Shuichi close. The kid snuggled a little, pressing a nose into Eiri's bare shoulder; the writer was still naked. He could find no words, wanting, for the Gods knew how many times, for time to stop and leave them both together like this. Shu's tears slid onto his shoulder and a few slipped down his chest. Pain, Gods Shuichi seemed to be in so much of it and he felt powerless. He curled, slouching over the small figure in his arms.

Softly, Eiri murmured, "Don't leave like this."

"There is no other way…" Gods, Eiri thought with dry humour, this was all so dramatic and cliché. Shu continued, "You have to let me go."

"I promised you--"

"I'm the one leaving you," And yet Shu cringed at his own words. "You're not breaking your promise."

"Shuichi," Eiri called softly, a barely discernible plea in his voice.

"At least you're still alive." Pulling completely away, Shuichi went over to his duffle and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. He made for the door then pulled it open. As he stepped out into the hall he finished softly to himself, on a voice so low Eiri was certain he hadn't been meant to hear, "And I'm already dead."

--


	24. Poised for Destruction

**Chapter 24 - Poised for Destruction**

_Author Notes:_

_Many many thanks to all reviewers, you've been a source of BIG pick-me-ups and self-confidence restoration.  
A big welcome to those who have added me to their favourites and alerts list. I keep seeing the numbers grow on my Stats page.  
Twenty-two thousand six hundred hits and counting... (grin) _

_This Chapter is potentially filler-ish, there was too much thinking going on behind the writing scene  
I was actually thinking of not posting anything until I finished writing this to the very end but my muse is throwing a fit (literally, I've been having nightmares) so here goes..._

* * *

-- 

He'd left.

_He _had left _Eiri._ Shuichi gave a sharp bark of wry laughter and shook his head, catching the glance the taxi driver threw at him in the rear view mirror. He ignored it; covering his mouth with one hand and trying not to be sick. Stomach turning somersaults in his abdomen, his thoughts of how it was all over closed a tight fist around his heart. He felt almost physically ill with despair, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't even turn back.

There was never any turning back.

Leaving hadn't been something he had wanted to do, but he'd done it anyway. It was the… correct course of action. Of course it was. Through the hurt he wondered how he could feel, his heart seeming too dead to contain his emotions. He should feel sad, shouldn't he? Just sad, and he had every right to. Instead there was a storm, a strange collection of heaviness and pain so drastic it seemed he would never feel normally again.

It was over now. He had done it and walked away. Eiri wouldn't have him back now after he had thrown the writer's love back in his face --it had probably dented Eiri's pride. Lost in his thoughts, it took him a few moments to realise his phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Shu,"

Closing his eyes, Shuichi forced some semblance of calm into his voice, "Hey Tasuki."

"You sound like shit."

"Thanks," he chuckled but it was humourless, and his voice cracked. He swallowed then sarcastically but good-naturedly added, "I needed that. Hold on." The cab stopped and Shu got out, paying the fare and trotting up the steps of the hotel where he had just arrived. He made for the elevators directly, knowing where he needed to go. He shoved the phone to his ear, "Yeah, so… It's late. What's up?"

"You could say I had a feeling." Tasuki sighed, "Sensei asked me to check on you too. You know, new meds, you're still touring and all. We haven't heard from you in a while."

"You got hell of a good timing. But yeah, well, no headaches. Not yet anyway." Was that even important now? Oh yeah… his life was on the line. Then it occurred to him to wonder, what life? As Shuichi ambled slowly through the hotel lobby toward the elevators, he joked wearily, "Since you cured my head aches, maybe you can find me something for my heart."

"Uh oh…"

"I left him," Shu said with difficulty. He stepped into the elevator and pressed for Hiro's floor.

"Now? This evening?"

Taking a tight breath, Shu leaned back against the wall. He rubbed his eyes with one hand as he forced himself to say, "Just got out of the cab from his hotel."

"Whoa."

"I know." Shu swallowed, trying to force the screams and tears in his throat back down.

"What happened?"

"Not anything I want to discuss right now," his voice cracked, threatening to go hoarse and Shu realised he would not be able to speak properly much longer.

"Right. Okay…" He seemed to understand suddenly, voice quieting and concerned. Then hesitantly, worriedly, "Hiro?"

"I'm in the elevator of his hotel, I'm on my—" Shuichi's voice gave out. And the tears spilled forth.

Clutching the phone tightly, he let his suddenly boneless arm drop and when his hand hit the floor it was only then he realised his knees had given out. Slumped, Shuichi wept, ignoring Tasuki's faint calls for him. Tasuki cut the call eventually and the beeping echoed a tinny whine in the enclosed space.

Shuichi reached for his chest as he sobbed, clutching at the acute stab of pain within. This hurt was different from anything else he had ever ached over before, bringing new meaning to 'heartache'. His heartbeats echoed in his ears, melding with the whirr of the elevator. He chuckled wryly, darkly amused that even then, he could not stop composing.

His world was crashing down around him and he wanted to think only of music.

The elevator gave a load ping and the doors opened. But before he could even think to haul himself from the floor, he heard running footsteps from up the hall. In the upper rims of his vision he saw Hiro, not the slightest bit out of breath, skid to a stop before the open doors right on time to catch them before they could begin to shut.

Shu raised his head, thinking Tasuki must have called Hiro, finally using the emergency number Shu had left just in case. He dimly registered the wince his best friend gave at the sight of his face, and whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry… It's over. I tried, I really did Hiro, I'm sorry…"

Over and over again, he begged to Hiro, saying that he was sorry and that he had tried to take care of himself. Through being helped to Hiro's room, onto the bed and cradled in the semi-darkness, he spoke through his tears. He could not say everything he wanted to, because even now he knew he had to keep some parts of his breaking heart to himself. Instead he told his best friend, his one solid rock throughout his adult life, about his lover and that he had done everything he could so that now there was nothing more that _could_ be done. It was over and that he had left Eiri.

Patiently, Hiro listened to his sobs and near-incoherent words. He tried to tell Hiro more about his sudden confession not too long ago, of the 'possibility' he was leaving their band. Hiro, bless him, hadn't asked him why or pressed him for more details. And he knew the guitarist hadn't told Suguru… not since he was still alive because surely the little tight- ass would have killed him by now had he known.

With his best friend's arms around him, giving love and support, he almost told Hiro about his… condition.

Almost.

A long while later, he couldn't see very well anymore, though he'd run out of tears. He knew what it meant and he knew Hiro knew too. Because his best friend whispered to him, a soft pardon to let him know he'd be back, and when the guitarist did it was with ice wrapped in a small towel which was placed gently over Shu's massively swollen eyes.

As his mind began to shut down from the emotional torment, he dimly heard the bedside telephone being lifted off the cradle and the swift exchange of hurried whispers. He knew.

This had all happened before.

Soon enough, there was a knock on the door. In moments, Suguru's voice whispered to him, just off beside the bed telling him everything would be alright, that they would take care of him. He didn't know where Hiro had gone, wondering briefly where the guitarist was now as there was no other sound in the room. But he knew when Suguru climbed into bed with him and pressed against his back, arms cradling him comfortingly. His ears were buzzing, he realised. He hadn't noticed until just then, wondering why Suguru's voice seemed full of static,

"Rest, Shuichi," Suguru stroked his hair back from his face. "Rest, and when you wake up, its all going to be better."

It was a testament to their friendship that the synth-master knew to sing him to sleep, a low slow tone with lyrics that spoke of brighter days and better tomorrows.

* * *

-- 

"I'm not leaving," Eiri stated, firing first Hiro then K each a dark glare.

He completely ignored the discomfort of facing these two in his own hotel room with only his trousers on. He might have lost his lover, his purpose for being on this damn trip. And he might have lost the one person he'd thought would believe in him and who he would believe in, but he would be damned if he gave in to that desolation now.

"You're going if I have to knock you out and drag you onto the train myself," Hiro said tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You can't stay here, you just can't."

Eiri scowled, "You were encouraging me to be with him!" The guitarist looked away and even Eiri had less than his usual fight in him. He sat on the foot of his bed and buried his face in his hands, wanting anything other than to fight with Hiro… especially so soon after his confrontation with Shu. He said, "And you do happen to know I want to work this out with him."

"He is not going to listen to you, Yuki-san," Hiro said softly. "He is not going to work this out with you, because right now it would do him better if you were gone. Can you understand that? He cried himself to sleep, he's a wreck. Again. And we have a concert next week."

Head snapping up, the writer glared, "The concert—"

"Can go fuck itself, yes I know. I agree." Hiro paced the room a little as he continued, "But that's not what I mean. Concerts are good for Shu, you know that. He needs this and he won't be able to perform with you here."

Eiri sighed, knowing it was the truth and hearing the desperation in the guitarist's voice. He shook his head and growled.

Hiro stopped and pleaded to Eiri with his eyes, "He's breaking, Yuki-san. I thought it was because of all the work he'd been hiding but this is bigger than that, whatever it is. So I'm asking you for some time enough for him and us to start repairs so he won't shatter. And for us to find out what the hell is going on, shit, he's thinking of leaving the fucking band!" Eiri noticed K stiffen at these words, but he noted it was not with surprise. Hiro continued, "But we need you gone." There was a slight pause then, "_He_ needs you gone."

Looking away, Eiri hated his helplessness. He couldn't think of a single argument to press. Everything was going to shit and he had no idea how to handle any of this! He muttered, "If it's so damn important, I should be here. I don't want to leave him. I… I promised."

"We will tell him we made you leave. You are not going to take the fall for this." Hiro waited for the writer to meet his eyes before saying, "That I promise."

"I…" He looked away but he wanted the guitarist to know. He wanted Shuichi's best friend to understand, but his voice sank into a soft and barely audible whisper anyway, "Hiro, I… love him."

"I know." There was a soft scrape as Hiro pulled out a chair from the hotel room desk. He huffed with frustration before saying, "Just let us figure this one out. As close as you two have become, Shuichi is still mine and Suguru's best friend. And we are his."

Eiri fired the guitarist a quick glare, "That stung."

"Sorry," Hiro murmured, sheepish. A moment after meeting Eiri's gaze, Hiro looked away, but there had been sympathy in his eyes.

K, who had remained surprisingly quiet the entire time, nodded and pulled out his phone, "I'll make the booking."

Eiri pulled out his own phone as he dragged out his suitcase. Listening to the rings, he gathered his belongings and began to pack. He wanted to scream by the time Touma's silky calm voice interrupted the ringing to say, "Hello?"

"He left me," was all he could think to say. He blocked out K's chatter behind him.

"I'm sorry, Eiri. I know. I spoke with Mr K earlier as he and Nakano-san were on their way to you, and just now with Suguru."

Immediately, the words flew out of his mouth, "How is he?"

"Asleep." The clipped word spoke volumes.

Eiri admitted softly, "Touma, I don't really want to leave him. Hiro said—"

"Trust me, Eiri. I will do all I can for him and for you."

"No." It hit him suddenly –hard, his eyes widening a little. "He's not going to take me back ever again. I don't… I shouldn't have expected him to."

"Eiri, it's not like that…"

"It is," he contradicted. "I knew. When he left me because of that scandal, I knew he was never coming back. I was just too selfish to accept it." He pressed his eyes, one with a thumb and the other with his index and middle fingers, as though suffering a headache. But really, his eyes pricked with hot tears. He continued, the sadness and regret rising to his throat, "I badgered him and he let me close because he still loves me, but he knows; like I know. I'm… I'm not good for him and he's never going to take me back."

It was a surprise to feel Hiro's hand on his shoulder but while he would not turn and accept the comfort, he could neither bring himself to pull away.

"Eiri, you know his feelings for you more than anyone—"

"Touma?" He was angry for a moment. There was a knowing pitch to Touma's tone that irked him, brought ideas of conspiracy to mind. Or was he just too desperate? He reigned in his patience and asked as politely as he could, "What do you know?"

Sounding as though Touma was hedging the question came through loud and clear, "I will tell you, but not now and not while you are there."

With barely concealed patience, Eiri asked, "Will you tell me… if I go back?"

"In the morning, when you arrive, I will pick you up," Touma sighed. "And then I will tell you the whole story."

Relief like none other flooded the writer and despite his annoyance with Touma's meddling ways, he didn't have to force himself to say, "Thank you."

"Oh, you won't thank me when you hear this, Eiri." Touma grated, sounding frustrated, "You're going to hate me and Shuichi both."

The unguarded words slipped past on a whisper, "I could never."

"Thank you," Touma said softly. "Let's hope you remember those words when we speak in person."

"Is it…" For Shuichi to reject him because of it, he really out to already know the answer to this one, but he asked anyway, "Is it… so bad?"

There was a pause, while Touma seemed to weigh what he was about to say. "I didn't really think so. But Shuichi would tell no one. Not Hiro, not his family, no one is aware."

The truth of Touma's intentions dawned and Eiri wondered how Shu would take this when, and not 'if' he found out. Hiro's gaze snapped to meet his when he said into the phone, "You're breaking his trust."

"You are still my priority, Eiri. You always have been," Touma insisted. "Remember that if nothing else."

With a scoff, he growled, "More of the 'it was for your own good, Eiri' bullshit, then?"

"I'm afraid so."

Eiri scowled fiercely at that. The cogs and gears ran on over-time for a moment, and his temper began to simmer. Rolling everything he knew over in his mind, Eiri came to a sudden decision. He almost snapped when he said, "Touma."

There was a slight pause, as though Touma had heard something in Eiri's voice, before he slowly spoke again, "Yes, Eiri?"

"I've changed my mind." The writer snapped his phone shut with a sharp click and tossed the phone aside onto the bed. He turned and continued to pack.

"What?!" Hiro squawked. "What are you doing?"

K growled, annoyed, "I already bought the damn tickets!"

"I never said I definitely would leave anyway," Eiri said with a loftiness almost as snotty as his usual temperament. "And even if I had promised you, I still would not get on that train now."

Hiro burst out, "For the Gods' sake!"

"What changed?" K asked, ignoring the exasperated and frustrated guitarist at his side.

Eiri didn't pause his movements as he spoke, "I'm not going to help Touma break Shuichi's trust." He shut the suitcase and turned to dress. "And I am not going to leave… him."

"We've already covered this!" Hiro raged.

"You're either awfully brave," K chuckled, "Or incredibly stupid."

Hiro declared his choice, "Stupid!"

Eiri rolled his eyes, buttoning up his shirt. "K's not going to shoot me," He glanced over at Hiro, "You can't do anything," Eiri tucked his shirt in to his trousers and buckled up. "And I refuse to let this be the end of it."

Hiro deflated. Pleading, he asked, "Can you just… stay away from Shuichi?"

"I will not--" Eiri cut himself off. In a gentler tone he said instead, "Tell you what, I will if you tell him some things for me. Tell him I'm not leaving and…" He screwed his brows up for a moment and turned away to rummage in his briefcase. "Screw that, I'll write it."

"What for?" Hiro said exasperatedly, "Just tell me already."

"I'm a writer, moron," Eiri reminded him and K chortled despite Hiro's burning glare. "And this way he has a choice to read it when he wants to; you'd just forget most of it anyway. Just tell him it's important." He pulled out a notepad and took it over to the desk. He scribbled quickly, his penmanship nearly perfect despite his hurry. When he was done, he read over his words and, satisfied, folded it and handed it to Hiro, "There."

"What are you going to do now?" K asked as the guitarist frowned at the letter.

"Don't you dare think of not giving that to him," Eiri told Hiro then turned and picked up his briefcase, setting it to sit on his suitcase. He told K, "I'm going to pass Katsuya my keys, and cash in that Shinkansen ticket for one to Hiroshima." This was the next concert location and Eiri knew they would be following in a few days anyway. Even he had to agree to Hiro's point that Shuichi could really use the break. Eiri brushed past them as he said, "I'll see you there."

Hiro called after him as walked out, "What are you going to do meanwhile?"

Shuichi's last words to him rang in Eiri's ears. Without pause in his step, he called over his shoulder, "Figure out how to raise the dead."

* * *

-- 

Though Touma would never admit it, even he did not always know precisely what he wanted at all times.

Circumstances, people and just everything simply had too many factors to consider. But when it came time to make a decision, Touma would make it considering everything he knew. If circumstances changed later then he would adjust if necessary but once a decision was made, very little would alter his course unless a better result could be had.

In this particular case, Touma knew precisely what he wanted to end up with. To get there, however… well, that was where things got _complicated._

And Touma _hated _complicated.

"I understand," Shuichi said monotonously, making Touma pause, the calm resignation so _not _what he had been expecting.

Shuichi never just calmly accepted people making decisions for him, not normally. Not _normally._ Touma had learned, however, that when Shu got down, it became all the easier to beat him further down. His mood and frame of mind almost always affected both his decision making and performance, which was why early on he, Mr K and Sakano had learned that a happy Shuichi was the best kind of Shuichi to deal with.

And right now, a happy Shuichi was very hard to come by. Certainly, it would be even farther out of reach now that the singer was more aware of what the band knew of him, as per K's latest report. The band, Eiri and (worryingly) Mika, had too many figures and Touma knew both he and Shuichi feared they would add up the numbers and arrive at the correct sum.

He tried again, "Did you hear everything I said?"

"Yes," Shuichi sighed. "I heard it all."

"And what is your decision?" Touma asked as gently as he could, wary of the little singer's too easy acceptance of his conditions.

"Tell him, if you wish. He knows quite a lot already," Shuichi said tonelessly.

"I see," Touma murmured, sensing the edge of hurt in Shuichi's voice. He observed, "You're upset with me." Shuichi remained silent, his breathing so even that Touma knew the singer was consciously controlling it. "I can understand that."

"I am sure you can." There was no mistaking the bitter edge in the singer's voice at that and again Touma regretted forcing Shu into a corner like this.

"Shuichi, I'm worried about you. I just—"

"Yes, of course," Shu interrupted. "It's about what you want. I can understand that, too."

Startled, Touma let the interruption slide. He pressed, "From what I understand of your situation this is the best course of action to take."

"Of course it is."

The sarcasm was beginning to grate. "Do you have another idea in mind?"

"You know my stand on this," Shuichi said, and Touma could practically hear the singer close his eyes and rub them with his fingertips.

"Things have… changed," Touma said slowly, "Don't you agree?"

"Many things have," Shu wearily replied, "But not everything."

"Shuichi—"

"Do what you please," Shu exasperatedly interrupted. "After all, you are my boss, _Seguchi-san_. All I ask is that I don't want to deal with him when he knows. I don't want to see him again if you tell him."

The implications of the change in address form did not escape Touma. And the stipulation… that didn't really surprise him. He closed his own eyes and softly said by way of farewell, "I apologise, Shuichi."

Setting the phone down on its cradle, he propped his elbows up on the desk and folded his hands beneath his chin, staring off into space. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise Eiri had changed his mind; he would have unknowingly permanently removed his life from Shuichi's had he left. And the writer knowing the full truth would have set too many dangerous wheels in motion --Touma already had it from the writer's mouth he would be calling Hiro and Suguru to spill whatever Touma had to tell him.

The proverbial shit was _just_ poised to hit the fan.

--


	25. Without Assumptions

_Author Notes:  
This chapter is something I have been holding off of for a while, exploring the other two members of Bad Luck. Because SO much goes on in my head sometimes about these two, I just get flooded with ideas. Anyway, that's not important right now.  
__This chapter covers Shuichi opening up to his bandmates. But it still annoys me because it's really SLOW! In any case, its kind of necessary. The pace picks up after this, I promise. For now, enjoy._

_

* * *

__**25 - Without Assumptions  
**June 2007  
__**Story: **__Doubt  
__**Fandom: **__Gravitation  
__**Rating:**__ This chapter, PG; Over all, R  
__**Summary:**__ The Bad Luck members reconnect. Yes, boys, this is what it's all about._

* * *

Hiroshi hadn't been feeling well.

He'd been worried, stressed and thinking too much. He hadn't been getting enough sleep, Ayaka's family had been giving him shit, Shuichi wasn't himself, and Suguru was… never mind that. And K, well that damned American was as big a headache as he had ever been. Hiro was tired of arguing with them, tired of worrying, and very annoyed Shuichi had been neglecting him… he pushed that last thought away. He of all people should know was not the time to get selfish about one's best friend.

Turning over on the bed, Hiro watched Shuichi sleep. Little squirt, he thought affectionately. Reaching over, he rumpled Shu's hair, noting it wasn't the same texture he was used to and that it seemed thinner than before. In his sleep, Shu moved a little into the touch, seeking the warmth and affection in it. Hiro sighed, noticing this was far from Shuichi's usual and _normal _crash-out way of sleeping. The little runt only ever reacted like this when he was quite desperate and sad.

"Hey," Suguru called softly from the doorway. Hiro lifted his head a little to briefly meet the synth-master's eyes before rolling over and getting up. "I ordered room service sushi for breakfast. Figured it was about the time you usually wake."

Hiro nodded, stepping after Suguru out of the room and closing the door behind them. "Yeah, that's fine," he rasped, making for the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

Completing his morning routine, he stepped back out into the hotel main room and flopped over on the couch beside Suguru who was going over some jottings in his notebook. Not missing the mess of music sheets, notes, and the smaller keyboard his band-mate used to just mesh out beat combos, he asked, "Have you been up long?"

"Couple of hours," Suguru vaguely replied without looking up.

Hiro snorted softly and closed his eyes. "Didn't sleep much either, huh?"

Giving up on the notes and letting his arm flop down in his lap Suguru admitted on a sigh, "Barely an hour."

"This can't go on," Hiro decided firmly, "This has to change. And he has to talk." Suguru chewed on his lip, remaining quiet and the guitarist stared at him. "What?"

"From what I understand of what you told me, Hiro," Suguru said slowly, "Shuichi rejected Yuki-san and walked away because he pushed too hard. Shuichi doesn't want to talk about this, and we are underestimating how far he will go to keep this matter to himself."

"The hell are we going to do then?" the guitarist snarled, sitting up, "Just let him waste away before our very eyes?"

"No, of course not," Suguru explained, waving his hand at Hiro to indicate to lower his voice, "I am just saying that we need to ask Shuichi to tell us more, but perhaps not everything."

"You're a saint if you have the patience," Hiro growled, flopping back on the couch over the armrest, a hand over his eyes.

"You're just frustrated after all the nights of no sleep," Suguru reasoned. "As soon as Shuichi turns his pretty purple eyes on you, you're mush and you know it."

"Tch!" Hiro huffed.

"Try to calm down before Shuichi awakens," Suguru suggested quietly, "I know you're stressed."

"I wish sometimes it was just Shu I had to worry about," Hiro said quietly. "In some part of my heart, I always feel that everything is going to be okay where he's concerned. You know? Shuichi's always been okay."

After a few moments, Suguru asked politely, "How are things with Ayaka?"

"Going to shit, what do you think?" the guitarist muttered, "Her family doesn't think I'm good enough. I answered all their questions about my background and family, expounded on every damn detail they prodded into. And from Ayaka's suspicions, they were able to contact my mother."

Suguru winced. "Oh dear," he murmured, but not loud enough that he missed the gasp from the bedroom. He looked up to meet his singer's half-shut swollen eyes peeking from the slightly open doorway.

He didn't need to call Shuichi out on it because the little singer came out on his own, small and silent footsteps out to Hiro's side where he knelt on the carpeting to lay his head on Hiro's chest, nose to the guitarist's neck. His thin arms wrapped around Hiro's shoulders and he held his best friend tightly. Hiro clasped Shu's elbow, acknowledging the gesture and tilted his chin to rest it on the singer's head.

Suguru watched them and admired their friendship, this bond which seemed to withstand anything.

He had seen them snipe and bicker, but for the entire negative mood to vanish in the next instant when someone asked a question… or if they had to make a decision on where to eat and what to order. Their relationship made him laugh, warmed his heart, and more than anything he wished he had that, that he could share it. Oh, he was becoming part of it now, slowly and surely every day. He felt it in the way Shuichi didn't mind his complaining so much, in the way Hiroshi teased him for being a 'tight-ass'.

But he was still envious.

They whispered now to each other, Shuichi giving his best friend his undivided attention and brushing aside Hiro's murmurs about his eyes and his own state. Hiro only just started to tell Shuichi his and Ayaka's story when there was a knock on the door; neither of them noticed. Suguru smiled to himself and went to let the bellboy in.

The young man recognised Suguru the moment he opened the door, eyes widening and shaky voice stuttering over his pre-programmed script. Suguru ushered him in, instructing the young man to leave the trolley by the little dining area where the bell boy happened to notice the two other band members nearby in quiet discussion, ignoring everything around them but each other. The bellboy bowed to them anyway, accepting Suguru's tip and stiffly making his way back out thankfully without any fan-like behaviour.

After checking the covered dishes and determining what was where, he checked over the drinks. There was nothing left to do but collect his mess and try to get organised. As he picked up a sheet of paper from by Shuichi's leg, the singer reached out and closed a hand around his wrist. Suguru looked up at Shu, then at Hiro, but they were both still talking softly, eyes only on each other.

But the hand was around his wrist.

Suguru blinked at it.

A few moments later, with his free hand, he reached and set the papers in his hands on the coffee table then knelt by Shuichi's side. Unable to resist, following his singer's example, he leaned over and set his cheek on Hiro's stomach, his face to Shuichi's shoulder. They moved on him together, the singer's arm came up and held him resting lightly across his chest, and one of Hiro's large calloused hands came to rest over his back.

He breathed quietly for a few moments, just absorbing their touch. Then, closing his eyes, he smiled.

--

Breakfast was an amazing affair.

It turned out they had been saving more than just bad news from each other: Suguru pulled out a box of game cartridges when Hiroshi unwrapped the new Play Station 3 he had managed to fetch before they went on tour. But then Shuichi pulled out a Nintendo Wii and some games to go with, which both Suguru and Hiro zeroed in on, abandoning the Play Station.

They jumped, reached, gestured and laughed their way through the games, making asses of themselves. Hiro and Shuichi ganged up on Suguru, Suguru and Shuichi ganged up on Hiro, and Shuichi and Hiro ganged up on Suguru, so on and so forth so long as it made everyone laugh. They heckled and cheered and bonded all over again, generally having so much fun they didn't even notice when Mr K managed to sneak in…

"Sneak in?" Suguru asked doubtfully.

"You never sneak in," Hiro pointed out. "You don't even knock unless someone else is with you and reminds you manners actually exist."

"Are sure you're feeling well?" Shuichi asked which, coming from him, seemed ridiculous because his eyes were swollen almost all the way shut from last night's tears.

"Shut up," K said in English. He switched back to Japanese when he growled, "Look, you punks. All I know is, I come to check on you and you're having fun without me. How is that fair?" The trio grinned evilly with each other, and K put his hands on his hips and glowered.

"Quit complaining and sit down," Suguru told him, "But you'll have to wait your turn on the controller."

"Awww…" Shuichi cooed.

"Gosh, K, we didn't know you really felt so close to us…" Hiro winked.

K rolled his eyes and made to join them on the couch but all three members ordered sharply in unison, "Take your guns off first!" and chased afterwards, in varying tones of panic, "And whatever else you're carrying!"

They passed the afternoon in laughter and joking, calling for more room service and consuming more than they probably should. An ice pack had been ordered up for Shuichi's eyes but it had melted so they called for another one, trying to use the excuse that Shu needed to lie down to use it in justification he should miss his turn on the controller.

They ignored the original itinerary of having a day out in Kyoto City and just stayed in their suite. They didn't talk about anything except the here and now, ignoring life beyond the hotel room door. By unspoken agreement, they knew there was enough time for that all later anyway.

Suguru caught Hiro checking his phone a few times but said nothing, only shaking his head when the guitarist mouthed his girlfriend's name by explanation. Shuichi and Mr K didn't seem to care so it wasn't a big deal.

Really.

K pulled Suguru aside later in the day, before he left, to quietly tell him to make sure Hiroshi gave the singer Yuki-san's letter. Worriedly, the synth-master wondered if he would be allowed to read the note himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust Shu or Hiro, but neither were thinking straight and he didn't want the note to be cause for yet more trouble between them all.

When Suguru called for tea after Mr K left, wordlessly both Hiro and Shuichi shut the gaming console off and gathered up the controllers. They headed into Hiro's room to put it away and Suguru followed, tea tray in hand. They climbed into the big bed together like children, and sat in a half circle cradling their mugs, talking about the games they'd played.

When silence finally descended, the yellow and orange of the setting sun streamed patterns on the room floor.

"I feel like I'm six years old again," Suguru muttered, plucking at the coverlet on his lap then reaching to set his mug down.

Hiro polished off his tea then asked, "Was that the last time you did something like this?"

"Yeah, with cousins," He smiled at the memory, "On my father's side of course." Shuichi snickered and Suguru had the impression the singer was imaging Touma as part of the snuggling picture. Hiro had a funny expression on his face too. He mused aloud, "Touma in this situation would be just… wrong." Hiro and Shuichi chuckled, and Suguru realised he'd been right.

"Or creepy," Shu said, downing the last of his drink and setting the mug aside.

"You're creepy," Hiro accused, "You're the one who imagined it!"

"You're just as guilty," Shuichi fired back. "You were thinking the same thing."

"I was thinking that it was what you were thinking," Hiro's eyes sparkled, "I didn't think it for myself."

"Well, I know you were thinking it because you really were thinking it whether you thought it for me or not, and don't say you weren't thinking it because you did… think it…" Shuichi trailed off, looking confused, and Suguru and Hiro laughed.

"Mou" Shuichi whined, "That made sense, didn't it?"

"It made Shuichi-sense," the other two said together and, leaning on each other, laughed again.

"Ne," Shu said, smiling, "You two look good together."

Suguru stilled, and forced himself not to stiffen when Hiro threw an arm nonchalantly around his shoulders leaning close and pressing near to exaggeratedly make a 'better' picture of them. He forced a smile to his lips which Shuichi flashed him a funny look for, so he stopped.

"We three look good together," Hiro corrected, sitting up again, missing the expression on Suguru's face.

"Yeah, we do!" Shuichi agreed loudly. He sobered and turned a little serious when he said, "I wish we could this way for always."

Without thinking, Suguru reached over and laid a hand on Shu's knee. Then he realised Hiro had reached over at the same time to the singer's shoulder. A little uncomfortably, unfamiliar with such a situation, he murmured, "I am sure I can speak for Hiro when I say that… we wish for that too." It sounded awkward to his ears. But then he noticed that Hiro mirrored his expression and posture of worry, and realised there was no such thing as 'awkward' right now at all.

"I… I'm sorry," Shuichi said, looking down.

Suguru exchanged a puzzled glance with Hiro. Shuichi's voice held no indication of withdrawing so it wasn't that he would talk… Hiro shrugged at him and, puzzled, he hesitantly asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Shu?" Hiro prodded when the singer remained silent, hair blocking their view of his eyes.

Shuichi looked up and he seemed to be on the verge of tears when he wailed, "I'm a horrible best friend!" He sniffed, "I didn't even realise something was wrong with either of you!"

Hiro breathed a sigh of relief and chided, "Don't get so dramatic, you imp!" He chuckled, "I was holding my breath for a moment there."

"I've been so selfish…" Shu buried his face in his hands. Suguru rubbed his knee comfortingly and Hiro shook his head. They laughed when Shuichi added, "And you're not even correcting me or telling me its okay so I _really_ know I've been selfish!"

Then it hit Suguru. Shuichi had said he'd been a horrible best friend… and that he hadn't noticed anything wrong with _either_ of them. His heart warmed at the thought, then suddenly clenched at the realisation the singer had caught him. Oh dear, indeed. Inwardly, he cringed because at this point, he could only hope Hiro didn't try to get them _all_ to talk.

The guitarist was making soothing noises in between trying not to chuckle. When Shuichi gave a wet pout, Hiro gave up and Suguru joined him in laughter. "You're such a brat, Shu. But don't worry, Suguru and I know that all too well so we still love you anyway." He added, "I forgive you."

"I'm sorry," Shuichi repeated, this time to Suguru.

Shaking his head, the synth-master gave a soft smile, "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Shu murmured, smiling. He turned to Hiro, "Is there anything either of us can do?"

"I don't think so," the guitarist admitted. "Things were hardly going well to begin with. I mean, say, Ayaka doesn't really mind that I smoke. But when we come back from a date, her parents talk about her smelling like smoke as testament to spending time with '_that_ boy'." He shook his head, "And we spend too little time together as it is, I just wanted to make things work."

"You have been smoking less lately," Shuichi said to himself, as though thinking aloud. Then he tilted his head to one side when he said, "You said you _wanted_ to make things work… that's past tense."

Suguru watched Hiro's expression carefully when he said, "Yeah…" he shrugged, "I kinda realised earlier when we talked that my relationship with Ayaka probably… you know… isn't going to work."

Hiroshi never made a decision lightly, so his hesitance to say the words spoke volumes. Suguru observed softly, "You don't want to just give up." He was surprised to realise that he and Shuichi had spoken the same words at the same time.

But then Shu, watching Hiro closely, said, "And yet, to some extent, you want to let her go." Suguru's brows rose at this, thinking, the clever moppet.

Suguru remained silent, he had little advice or opinion to offer at this point, having never had a meaningful romantic relationship in his life. There had been times over-zealous fan-girls had accosted him in clubs and dragged him off into a corner for kisses and some cuddling. And really some women could be too pushy, he didn't want that… Okay, so he'd enjoyed it, but that wasn't what he _wanted._ And suddenly…

"What do you want?"

"Hmm?" Hiro turned puzzled gray eyes on him, and Suguru looked away feeling his mouth go dry with nervousness. He hadn't been thinking when he'd asked.

"I mean, what do you want in a relationship?" His mind began to wrap around the idea, gaining momentum, "Do you know what you want from a relationship and not necessarily from Usami-san per se?"

Hiro thought about that then mused aloud, "I guess when you put it that way…" His eyes cleared a little and he said, "I… do actually have an idea of what I want."

"Can you name one?" Suguru asked, watching Shuichi turn to look at them each as they spoke and looking like he was watching the ball at a tennis match.

"I don't want to be made to feel guilty for spending time with my girlfriend, for one."

"Anything else?"

"I want to be able to spend time with her when I want to," the guitarist's expression darkened a little, "And not because we managed to sidestep roadblocks her family set in our way."

"Sounds to me you have a problem with Ayaka's family and not Ayaka," Shuichi murmured.

"But Ayaka's decision making is affected by her family's priorities…"

Suguru filled in the blank, "Even when Usami-san came to Tokyo without her family's knowledge to find Yuki-san, I think it was because she felt she could get him to listen to her better than their families could."

"She never loved him," Shuichi finished. "In fact, she was the one who told me where to find him when he went back to Kyoto that time."(1)

Hiro scrubbed at his hair with some frustration. "Argh… I knew I was going to end up here."

"I'm sorry, Hiro," Suguru murmured. He said no more when, at that moment the guitarist rubbed his eyes, Shuichi flashed him a look that clearly said 'oh no you're not', accompanied by a small sad smile.

"I'm sorry too," Shu echoed, then asked Do you know what you're going to do?"

"I'll think about it some more," the guitarist sighed. "Try and figure out what to say. She probably won't even be surprised."

"She will," Shuichi contradicted softly. "She went against her parents to be with you. That's something we just agreed isn't her style."

"I don't want to hurt her," Hiro said, looking worried.

"Then will you hurt for her?" Shuichi asked softly. Suguru felt certain not only he caught the strange tone in the singer's voice when he asked that, but neither commented.

"I… No," Hiro admitted, "I can't. I guess I'm selfish that way."

A strange expression flashed over Shuichi's face before he leaned over and hugged Hiro tightly, "You're not selfish at all. It's just normal to not want to hurt." There was a pause, "I want you to be happy, Hiro. You too, Suguru. I don't want to be part of anything that ever makes either of you sad."

"Shuichi?" Hiro flashed Suguru a worried look at the singer's behaviour. "Are you… are _you_ okay?"

"I'm better," Shu said, sitting back again. He reached over and took Suguru's hand. "I'm better when I'm with you two."

Suguru and Hiro exchanged yet another worried glance. Hiro asked, "Will you talk to us? Even a little?"

"Even if it's just part of your troubles, and not all of it," Suguru added, "We want to help." An idea hit him, "Because you know, we don't want you to hurt just as much as you don't want us to. Please?"

Shuichi smiled at him and Suguru felt the answering smile tug at his own lips. Hiro waited, almost holding his breath. And Suguru found his palms had turned a little sweaty.

"Yes," Shuichi said softly, resettling himself and getting comfortable. He looked up at them and smiled at each in turn, "I'll talk."

* * *

(1) Taken from the Anime series, Usami Ayaka came to Tokyo to look for Yuki when she discovered her parents' frustration at Uesugi-san's inability to get Yuki to come back to Kyoto to marry her. She went to find him and did, but in the next episode, realising how Shuichi cared for Yuki, she told him where to find Yuki. In all honesty, had she not spoken up, she could have married Yuki without anyone finding out where the writer had even gone. While she did cry, she accepted Hiro's comforting of her and seemed to consider Hiro when he declared that he would like to go out with her.

* * *

_Dear readers, _

_Today is 24th of August 2008. It's been about a year and a half since I've touched this story and I realise now that I probably never will again. It's not a conscious decision but I just don't "hear" the characters anymore. The support for this story was nice while it lasted... but it was rather half hearted from the readers to begin with. I think the muses gave up._

_Consider it this way: There are 191 reviews out of 83 watchers (alerted). Mathematically, everyone reviewed twice. TWICE! Out of 25 chapters, people reviewed just two times. It was so disheartening and I learned so little about my writing from the people who did comment. I wasn't growing as a writer here._

_I'm sorry to say that I might not be writing for this fandom again and will be concentrating on more responsive work. I'll leave this here just in case the muses decide to have at it again. But for now, it's suspended._

_I apologise to the readers who followed and loved this fic. --Tsu_


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